


Come the Dragons

by PumpkinKingofGames



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Incest, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, R plus L equals J, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2018-12-13 18:18:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 82,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11765652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinKingofGames/pseuds/PumpkinKingofGames
Summary: Exiled from his home under pain of death, a young prince shall carve out a new destiny for himself and those who follow him. This is the dawning of a new era, the birth of a new dynasty.Dragons are coming.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DolorousEdditor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DolorousEdditor/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Conquest](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3636984) by [DolorousEdditor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DolorousEdditor/pseuds/DolorousEdditor). 



> I'm back bitches, and I brought a new story with me! This is something I have been working long and hard on. For months I have been working on the most minute detail of this story, and I hope all my hard work bears fruit.
> 
> Also just a heads up, this story was inspired by DolorousEdditor's "The Conquest" and was written after first running it by him. So I do not want anyone saying I am stealing anything from anyone. I am no RobbtheStark.

I

JON

 

The flames were raging without pause, their light illuminating much of the fields with their glow. Their beauty and terror was only eclipsed by the thousands of voices that shouted all across the battlefield.

The once lush and beautiful green fields of Valysar now lay in absolute ruin. Their emerald green grass was now burned to embers, and mixed in with the ash could be found the blood of the fallen. Hundreds upon hundreds were sprawled out across the fields, the bodies piling up on top of one another to form mounds of corpses, with hundreds of arrows filling their bodies. Once pass the gruesome sight of the dead there came the sight of a fiercely pitched battle between the Dothraki riders and their opposition. Tempered steel and arakhs clashed against one another as thousands fought fiercely before the city of Valysar, the sigil of the Targaryen dragon waving proudly amidst the bloodshed for all to see.

Standing tall against the enemies in their black and silver armor with decorated black wings, the soldiers fought with a fury that matched the dothraki in kind. They fought wielding sword and spear and shield, holding their own against the savagery of the horde.The cries of well over ten thousand men could be heard for miles around as the battle continued to rage on.

When the horse lords rained their arrows down, the knights would raise their shields. When the knights thrust their spears forward, the Dothraki charged passed the dead and in close to their enemies. The screams of man and horse echoed for all to hear, as by blade or arrow or spear they all fell one after the other.

Neither side would give an inch.

Meanwhile, nearby high on a hill a small band of seven men watched the fighting take place. They all wore the same black and silver armor save for the black cloaks that wore, one of the seven stood out more so than any of the others. His armor was a beautiful obsidian black, intricate details and designs of dragons decorated the breastplate, greaves, and shoulder plates of the armor. His helm held firmly in his hand was a similar dark color, with dragon wings on each side of the helm, and secured firmly to his shoulders he wore a cloak white as freshly fallen snow. And strapped to his side was a beautiful valyrian steel bastard sword, the only one of it’s kind.

He was Jonarys Targaryen, son of High King Rhaegar and the High Queen Lyanna, second son of the empire and Lord Commander of the Dark Legion.

Though Targaryen by birth, everything about Jon reflected the blood of his mother in him. He had the same long face as his mother, dark brown hair, and grey eyes so dark they almost seemed to be black. It was his demeanor that he inherited from his father, a solemn expression that seemed etched into his features since he was but a little boy.

As he sat there atop his steed watching the battle unfold, he could not help but think of how long this damn campaign of theirs had been.

Almost a full three turns of the moon had passed since they had arrived before the city gates, and for all three of those moons they were caught waging bloody war with the screamers that sought to sack Valysar. The nobles of the city had sent word to the imperial capital pleading for aid against Khal Zekko and his Khalasar. For years the city of Valysar had been a valued part of the empire. Once it had been a small colony, now the city had grown in size to match to nine great cities of Essos in the shadow of the imperial capital of Volantis. And even though relations had become somewhat strained of late, they still remained a valued part of the empire. This threat that Zekko and his khalasar offered was not one that could be ignored. So the High King had quickly dispatched Jon and his men of the Dark Legion to lend aid to Valysar.

Jon had arrived a week or so before the rest of his troops, allowing for him time to assess the situation and come of with a proper strategy against the horde. Once properly informed of the enemy’s size, strength, and resources, Jon sent word to his commanders to make ready for combat as soon as they arrived.

And what a battle it was.

On their first encounter with the Khalasar they had both bloodied each other, but would returned the following day with renewed vigor. During their next engagement Jon had slain Zekko’s Khalakka in single combat with his great valyrian steel sword.This only served to inflame the Khal and his riders even further.

Following that Jon’s men had suffered heavy loses as the Dothraki launched a night raid, leaving much blood and death in their wake before they disappeared into the night. Reinforcements from the nearest company had been dispatched to supplement the losses Jon had suffered, which Jon used to answer back Zekko in kind, and so on and so on.

_Despite all the fighting we have yet to break their resolve._

From high on the hill opposite the battlefield the young Targaryen prince observed his men facing off against the Dothraki horde. Normally it would be Jon leading his troops into the heart of the battle, as it had been for the other several clashes with Zekko’s Khalasar, but this time was different. This time he was determined to break the dothraki here and now, and as such he needed to sit out of this battle...for the moment. Stretching out his hand, one of the men beside him handed over a myrish spyglass to him. Looking through he observed as slowly but surely his forces were beginning to slowly withdraw against their foes, moving back towards the city walls. Once they were soundly pressed with the city walls to their backs one of his officers on the hill waved a series of flag gestures for the men to see, and they quickly formed themselves into the Valaxan formation. The sounds of their broad shields linking together and their spears being driven forward echoed across the field of battle. Then from on top of the walls of the city, a lone arrow burning bright was shot high into the air.

_The time has come._

Handing his spyglass off to one of his men, Jon dismounted his horse and approached the hulking form of his dragon, Vhagar. The majestic beast was Jon’s oldest companion and friend, since the days she was but an egg placed beside an infant Jon in his crib. Among the current dragons that House Targaryen counted, Vhagar was among the largest in their stables. Her silver scales and the white membrane of her wings made her a vision to behold, a silver terror that was battle tested and hardened from years of fighting alongside her rider.

At Jon’s approach Vhagar bowed her head, and he in turn ran his gloved hand across the top of her head.

“Well old girl, what say we put an end to these horse lords huh?”

Her answer was to stand to her full height, spread her wings, and let out a torrent of blue flames from her mouth. Vhagar was ready for blood.

Grinning, Jon saddled himself on his dragon’s back, securing his riding chains before donning his helmet and drawing forth his valyrian steel blade high into the air, before Vhagar stretched her wings once more, and took flight.

High overhead the two of them soared, the clouds raced past Jon as he and Vhagar rose higher and high above. Once they were hidden from all sight Jon lowered his blade down at the Dothraki horde, and Vhagar dove down with a mighty screech. The horse lords looked up in horror as Jon and his dragon descended upon them, loosing blue flames down on their heads. The attack came so sudden that the Dothraki had no time to prepare a proper counter attack, nor would Jon give them the time to. Urging her on, Jon and Vhagar made another pass and let loose another torrent of fire, setting man and horse aflame in the effort. Some, in an attempt to escape the firestorm, made their way towards Valysar’s walls, but found themselves pierced through on the Dark Legion’s spears. Others tried fleeing back into the forest, only to find themselves caught in more fire from above. For those inside the walls of the city, a new sound could be heard in place of the battle. The screams of the dying, and the roars of a dragon.

Once Jon and Vhagar had greatly thinned the enemy ranks, the soldiers of the Dark Legion began pressing an attack on the survivors. Slowly but surely, they closed in on the Dothraki, their spears reaching out and skewering any enemy within reach, arrows and cross bolts fired from cracks in the shield wall to pick off any stragglers who were out of range of the spears.

Yet even while his men were burning alive, or being slaughtered by Jon’s men, Khal Zekko stood defiant in the face of his defeat. His arakh raised high, he attempted to rally what men remained to fight, but in this he failed. A strong gust of wind blew, setting the bells in his braid to singing, and was soon overshadowed by a hulking figure. Zekko turned his horse around to find himself face to face with mighty Vhagar, and her rider Prince Jon. From under his helm Jon’s voice boomed out in the Dothraki tongue.

_“Khal Zekko, your army is finished, brought low by Vhagar’s mighty flames! You cannot win, this fight is done! Surrender now and you and what remains of your Khalasar may retreat back to the Dothraki Sea!”_

The Khal said nothing, only raised his weapon high and kicked his horse forward at the dragon and her rider.

_Death before dishonor...so be it._

Vhagar lurched forward and clenched both Khal and horse between her powerful jaws. One bite cleaved both the steed and rider in half, so ending the mighty Khal Zekko once and for all. The sight of their leader being devoured by a dragon broke the spirits of what Dothraki remained, and those precious few managed to flee back into the forest, and hopefully far away from Jon and his dragon’s fire.

Unfortunately for them Vhagar was not who they should be worried about.

The sounds of trumpets and the hooves of hundreds of horses filled the air, and from the west rode in the Shadow Company, three thousand mounted men all armed and battle ready, all in hot pursuit of what remains of the Khalasar escaped.

As the riders and their horses thundered by Valysar and the Dark Legion, a small group of three riders broke off and came to present themselves before Jon and Vhagar.

Sheathing his blade, Jon patted the scales on Vhagar’s neck before unfastening himself from his saddle, and dropping down to solid ground where the three riders soon followed. The foremost rider, a knight dressed in red armor with a black dragon emblazoned upon it, came before Jon and bowed before him on one knee.

“My prince, I thank the gods to see you are unharmed.”

“As I do I my friend, to see you here now that victory has already been won, Daemon," Jon removed his helm to grin at his friend, gesturing him to rise.

Once he had, the knight also removed his helm to reveal a handsome young man with silver blonde hair, and eyes like amethyst. Daemon Blackfyre was one of Jon’s dearest friends, and one of the fiercest commanders in service to the empire. Fierce enough to be granted command of the finest riders in service to House Targaryen. Though young like his friend, Daemon was already head of his household, of the Blackfyres of the empire, and loyal bannerman to House Targaryen.

Holding out his hand, Daemon accepted and both pulled the other into a friendly embrace.

“Hahaha, gods be good Jon, it has been too long my friend. I thought for sure that you would have been finished moons ago.”

“Yes well I hadn’t expected to take so long dealing with Khal Zekko. The man fought with an unexpected ferocity I did not foresee.”

“That or use Vhagar I’m sure,” Daemon gestures to Jon’s dragon, who had begun helping herself to the charred remains of horse meat, no longer caring for much anything else.

“Indeed, I had hoped I wouldn’t be forced to use her, but Zekko proved to be far more capable than other Khals I’ve faced.”

Daemon nodded in understanding to Jon’s reluctance. Dragons were mighty creatures, no other could match them for speed, or strength, or ferocity, but in campaigns they were expressly forbidden from use, unless under dire need. Since long ago the many cities and kingdoms of essos has long feared the dragons that House Targaryen wielded. Once nearly the entire continent united together as one in an attempt to bring low The Targaryen empire when it had been ruled by the cruelest of High Kings. A High King who delighted in unleashing his dragons upon others for his sheer amusement. It would fall to the next king to make a peace with all their enemies and rivals. In exchange for a peace between them and the empire, Dragons would be held back from smaller skirmishes, and only to be used in times of absolute war. A law which had continued on for near on three-hundred years. Even Daemon would not bring his own mound, Meraxes, to the field of battle if it could not be helped. Such was the law that had been set down by the old king himself.

“At least this campaign is over and done with. Once we conclude our business with Valysar it’s back home to Summerhall for a long and well deserved rest.” Jon nodded as they walked towards his men, the soldiers of the Dark Legion had already begun making preparations to depart. The dead were already being gathered up, what weapons could be scavenged were already, and the wounded were quickly being treated to by their healers. The two commanders came to be greeted by two more officers once they had neared the gates of the city. One man was easy to spot given the bright red garbs he draped himself in, and the wine that could be smelled upon his person. The other was of a more appealing image as he wore the black and silver armor of the legion, but opted for a green cloak emblazoned with the seahorse of his home.

“My Prince, Commander Blackfyre, you are both most welcome sights.”

“Indeed, as much welcome as the barmaid bringing the next pitcher after your ale has run out.”

His compatriot smacked his red clad friend upside the head, which only served to put a smile on Jon’s face. For these two were among the few that Jon could ever call his friends.

“Auranne, leave poor Thoros alone.” The now named Auranne complied immediately as Jon drew in closer and put a hand on each of their shoulders. “We have won a great victory today. Go, celebrate with the men once we have finished our preparations. It is well earned.”

Both nodded and brought their fists to rest across their chests, a symbol of respect to their leader.

Jon also ordered that their men leave Vhagar be and allow her to feed to her content, warning to keep the men away and out of her way. Friendly she might be, the dragons were known to have killed men for lesser things than interrupting a meal. The officers nodded and hurried off to see his will done. As the two made their way through the ranks of Jon’s men, Daemon inquired of Jon about his plans for what he planned after he returned home.

“I suppose a proper rest first. To sleep once more in mine own bed, a proper meal to share with mother and father, then mayhaps I will visit the godswood, the gods know I feel as weary in soul as I do in body.”

It had only been seven years since he first joined the Dark Company, three since becoming their lord commander, but he felt as though his time of service had left far more scars upon his soul than his actual body. Back when he was young and foolish, Jon had eagerly jumped at the chance to fight for the empire. Only now as a man did he truly understand the decision he made. After all the killing and all the blood he had spilled, Jon felt so much of the person he use to be had died long ago.

“What about you Daemon? I know you and your men were dealing with another uprising near Norvos, and then you had to ride straight here. What do you intend to do when we all return home?”

Jon’s friend looked caught by surprise before he began to contemplate what he would do when he returned.

“I suppose much like yourself I am anxious to see family, to embrace my sister and mother again. Perhaps fly Meraxes around essos for a few days. Balerion knows it has been too long since I last flew, and my poor Meraxes has been cooped up back home all this time.”

That brought a laugh to Jon, the thought of Meraxes, that red scaled wonder, acting frustrated and anxious being cooped up in the dragonpit for so long. As they approached the city gates, Jon and his dear friend were met by a small group of city guardsmen who had been sent to escort him to speak with the ruling council of nobles. Ser Daemon quickly offered to accompany the prince, and the two followed their escorts inside the city.

Valysar truly was an amazing sight to behold. As the gateway between Volantis and the rest of Essos trading caravans bound from Qohor and other along the Rhoyne would pass through Valysar before heading towards the capital of the empire. Similarly, caravans leaving Volantis with goods from across the Narrow sea arrive first at Valysar. The trade that came from this helped make Valysar one of the richest of the Cities in Essos, save the nine great cities. Inside the city walls Jon witnessed the people emerging from their homes to celebrate the defeat of the Dothraki. Some embraced one another, some danced in the streets, and some even could be seen kneeling before the statues of the Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes. As they were escorted down the street, several of the citizens came up to them and thanked them. Reaching out to them to touch the city’s savior, their escort ensured none got too close, but one young girl managed to slip between the guards and present Jon with a simple flower. He smiled and thanked her, accepting the small token of thanks for all he and his men had done for them. Moving past the crowds Jon and Daemon were led to a large structure that lay near the center of the city. Inside waited for them an assembly of around twelve nobles from the various houses of Valysar, the ruling elites of the city.

“Praise be to Jonarys Targaryen, the gods must surely have blessed you to deliver such a crushing defeat against the Dothraki filth.”

The exotic tone of the speaker earned murmurs of agreement from the rest of the assembly. Jon said nothing but only bowed in humble acceptance of their praise in stoney silence .

“We had feared Khal Zekko and his Khalasar would be the end of us, the end of mighty Valysar. How grateful we are that our friends in the Empire were there to save us in our hour of need. The City of Valysar shall forever be in your debt my friends.”

“Yes indeed...I thank you for your praises good sirs.”

Nodding to them, Jon then reached behind and pulled out a scroll. “Now before me and my men take our leave, there is still one last bit of business we need to address.”

The nobles looked to one another in confusion. As far as they knew there was no more business they had left, the Dothraki were beaten and the city was safe. One of the assembly motioned for a guard to bring him the scroll, and when he saw its contents he was flush with anger. “What is the meaning of this!? Is this meant as some sort of joke?”

“I assure you this is no laughing matter.” Jon stepped forward so all could see him. His grey eyes seemed to darken, and his features became cold and serious as he spoke. “The city of Valysar was saved in its hour of need by the forces of the empire, many good and valiant men were lost, resources were spent, and many imperial affairs were affected as a result of our involvement with this campaign.To that end the empire is foregoing it’s fee for this campaign in favor of a different type of payment.”

“Your father wants one third of our incomes from trade, and to institute a tax for the empire on all goods bought and sold in our markets!” At this the room erupted into outrage, each of the nobles gathered stood and began to voice their anger at such a demand.

“This is madness!”

“Thieves, they are thieves!”

“The dragons go too far!”

“You would dare try to extort us for more than you have earned!?”

“Chop off his hands and send them back to his thieving father, show him Valysar will not abide such outrageous demands!”

At that last comment Daemon’s hand went to his sword, an action the guards in the room noted as they looked to be getting ready to strike. The room continued to fill with the anger and outrage of it’s occupants when Jon finally brought an end to it. He raised a mailed hand into the air, and all stopped what they were doing, anxious to hear the Targaryen prince’s next words.

“Noble men of Valysar, believe me when I say I understand your outrage, I understand the shock this must be, how angry you are most certainly are. I also understand that your desire to do violence could also but seen as justified, most people certainly would not be against such actions if such unfair terms were suddenly dropped upon them.” Jon paused, looking around to make sure that all eyes were upon him. He lowered his hand and signaled Daemon to stand down. “That being said there are a few things that you are forgetting,” Jon scanned the room and made sure everyone was looking at him before he continued.

“The first point is that you, the nobles of Valysar, brought this carnage down upon your city when you decided to not pay Zekko his tribute. Confident in the Unsullied that would protect you, you were caught unawares when Astapor refused to send any to support the small force you had here.” Jon raised his hand and a second finger

“The second point, is that you came to us, pleading with us for aid even after your rather presumptuous and dismissal attitudes of late. You have shown neither the empire or the High King himself the respect due him, and acted as though you were negotiating terms from a position of power. Greater men of power have been killed for less.”

Then he raised his third finger. “The third point, even though you believe yourselves to be an independent entity, you are all a part of our empire. You began as nothing more than a colony, and have grown due to the patronage and support of the capital, and the royal family. We respect your right to self govern yourselves, but you are still a part of us. Your lands, your fields, your people, even this city itself, belongs to the empire. Remember that it is by the grace of the High King and the imperial council that you retain this right to self govern. If they so wished it we could have removed you and placed an imperial governor to rule over the city of Valysar for us.”

As he glanced around the room, he saw as the fight and objections they had were slowly being smothered one by one. Then he raised a fourth finger for his last point.

“The final point gentlemen, right now your gates are open wide, your city watch pales in experience and skill against my men alone, let alone Commander Blackfyre’s riders. If you had seriously considered harm upon either myself or my friend, then our men would swarm this city and put everyone to the sword. And if not Vhagar outside, then my father and the rest of the royal family would rain fire down from above and burn you, your city, and your entire culture from the map...if you had meant us any harm.”

All was silent in the room, not a single sound could be heard. The nobles who had arrived so proud and smug now looked to be pale and lifeless, and without any energy to resist anymore. Jon took all this in, even the defeated looks upon the guards, and nodded.

“Now, about our terms?”

 

DAENERYS

 

The royal gardens were her favorite place in the whole world.

Ever since she was a child Rhaegar and Lyanna would take her strolling through these gardens, exposing her to all the wild and exotic types of flowers that grew within. Once she and her good sister Lyanna spent an entire afternoon among the flowers, coming up with new and exciting names of their own for whichever flower they came across.

Much like now, Daenerys had finished her noon meal and had decided to seek out the peace and tranquility of the gardens, the one place throughout the royal palace that she could find absolute quiet. As she walked through the paths her fingers would glide over the petals, their pollen sometimes sticking to her hand, and making it feel wet. For this she would quickly dip her hand in one of the many pools that could be found within, and wash away the stickiness from her.

Lyanna had once played with her so hard once that they had accidentally fallen into one of the bushes, and became covered from head to toe in sap. So to remedy this Lyanna had scooped her up and threw them both into one of the pools, soaking themselves from head to toe. Rhaegar had been beside himself with disbelief, Jon and Aegon as well, but she cared not. She and Lyanna were having far too much fun to care about how ridiculous the situation seemed. The High Queen and Princess of the blood playing and splashing around in one of the garden pools, soaked completely in water. They just did not care.

_"Sometimes a lady just doesn’t need to care, should not bring herself to care, nor should she care. Sometimes a lady needs to do whatever she wants and pay no heed to the gossips of others."_

Those were the words the High Queen imparted to her after they both had finished their fun. Words that Daenerys had held true to for years to come. To her, Lyanna was more than a sister, more than Rhaegar’s wife, or Jon’s mother...she was her mother too.

Tragic was the tale of Queen Rhaella, the late queen of her father, King Aerys II, though better known to the world as the mad dragon, or the mad king. Aside for his son and heir, her mother had birthed for Aerys several other sons and daughters, but only she and her brother Viserys had lived. Though her birth was what caused the death of her mother.

Born during the greatest storm in recorded memory, Queen Rhaella gave birth to her and quickly succumbed to weakness and fatigue from childbirth. Her death wounded her brother, her father seemed not to mind, and her other brother, Viserys, had never forgiven her for, as he put it, ‘murdering our mother’.

She wished she could say she remembered much about her, but that would be a lie. All she had to remember her was a name, a crown that belonged to her, and stories she was told.

Further into the gardens she strolled, passing all manner of exotic imported plants that Rhaegar had acquired, before she arrived at her destination, a small corner in the far back hidden from any peeping eyes. Back here, in this small corner were her favorite flowers of all. The blue winter roses of Winterfell, imported from Westeros just for Lyanna. A gift from her brother, King Eddard Stark, for his sister on her wedding to Rhaegar. Among all the wonders to be found in Rhaenys’ garden, the winter roses were by far the most beautiful of them all.

She stopped to lean in and take in their fragrance, the smell was intoxicating to her. Whenever she smelled these roses they always brought to mind two people that meant the world to her.

Continuing further she finally came to a stop at the one place few ever dared to go, Queen Lyanna’s heart tree. It was no great oak like those said to come from the north, but was of a generous size all the same. In the twenty years since Lyanna had come, this tree had been planted shortly after her arrival, and had grown over the years. The laughing tree Lyanna called it, for the tree seemed to take on the appearance of a jovial face laughing heartily when looked upon.

This place was normally reserved for the High Queen and her son, but every now and then when Daenerys sought to be alone she would sneak in and sit in the shadow of the tree, among the winter roses.

Now was no different. Coming before it, she situated herself against its trunk, and let the aroma of the roses to overwhelm her.

As she did she felt herself become lost in her memories, taking herself back to a time when she was young and innocent, without any worry or care. She could see a twelve year old Daenerys now, running along the path, giggling as she hid herself behind one of the bushes. Soon after another twelve year old, this one with familiar dark brown hair and grey eyes, rush in after her.

“Dany enough, stop hiding. You know we aren’t allowed back here without mother.”

He looked behind the bushes looking for her, but she quietly slipped from one to the other just in time, leaving him confused and frustrated.

“Dany come now,” he came before the heart tree and called out again. “Come on now, games over! We are going to get into trouble!”

“Raaah!”

Jon was taken unawares as from behind little Dany jumped on his back and sent them both falling to the ground. Jon ended up face first in the dirt while Dany sat triumphant upon his back.

“Some prince you are, taken from behind by a defenseless maid like myself. Why if only our family could see you now. Egg and Rhaenys would likely laugh so hard at--”

Daenerys was cut short when Jon rolled them over, and pinned Dany down under him.

“Now what was that about Aegon and Rhaenys laughing at me Dany?”

She struggled and tried to free herself, but Jon’s hold was too strong. He never hurt or held her too tight, no jon was always gentle with her. He was always gentle and kind to her, even when they played like this. Of all the royal children they were the closest to each other. They both knew each other better than anyone else, save Lyanna of course.

“Now then Dany, I believe you have something you took from me?”

He was referring the pin that he was given by his mother on his last name day. It was a simple thing, made of wood and designed to look like a dragon on one side and a wolf on the other. But it was still something Jon loved dearly, for the wood was from the heart tree of Winterfell, a gift from his uncle, King Eddard. Jon had been raised upon the stories of not only the Targaryen kings of old, but the northern kings of Westeros, the forefathers of him and his mother. Tales that inspired Jon, and helped shape him into the kind of man he would one day seek to become. For that reason the pin held significant value to Jon, and Dany knew that taking it would get him to chase after her into the gardens. Just as she also knew how to escape from Jon’s hold. She leaned up quickly and kissed him. Jon’s reaction was quick, he released her and crawled back a few steps, wiping his mouth and glaring at Dany in frustration.

“Not fair, you know you can’t do that!” Dany only laughed and crawled closer to Jon.

“Not my fault you keep reacting like that. Maybe instead of scurrying off like a cat you’ll stand your ground next time. Then you won’t have to worry about me kissing you again.”

Jon looked at her for a moment, his grey eyes staring deep into her own violets. So intense was his stare that Dany soon turned to blushing. Finally Jon stood on his knees and looked her eye to eye.

“May I please have my pin back Dany?”

The sincerity in his voice caused her to smile. Stretching out her hand she revealed the pin to Jon, but when he reached for it she closed her hands once more.

“You have to give me something in return for it Jon.”

“What do you want?”

Her face looked pensive as she pondered about what price she’d ask for. Then she smiled and looked to Jon. “I’ll give it back to you, and in exchange you have to give me a kiss.”

How quickly Jon’s face became red set Dany to giggling, but reasserted to him that to get his pin back that he would have to give her a kiss. So she watched as Jon fought back his reddening face, and started to lean in, but was stopped when Dany put a finger to his lips.

“Not just any kiss, I want you to kiss me like the brave heroes from one of our stories. Like a knight professing his love for the fair princess. You have to kiss me like that.”

Jon’s face grew red again, but he understood. So he reached out and took her hand in his own, looked deep into her violet eyes, and kissed her. For years they had played at simple kissing games along with the other children. Jon and Aegon being passed between Dany and Rhaenys when they were younger, but this was different. This time there was something more than youthful play, this time there was real emotion, real feelings passing between them. And when they broke apart both looked flushed and a little breathless.

Dany stared at Jon with eyes full of wonder. He hand reached up to touch the lips Jon’s were just kissing, and a smile broke out. Jon himself seemed to calm down, and the smallest of smiles could be seen to grace his face.

Standing up first he offered his hand to Daenerys, and helped her to her feet. Both stood in comfortable silence as they just looked to one another. Dany’s violet eyes seemed to shine like stars, and Jon’s greys seemed to light up. Dany’s other hand reached over and slipped the Pin back into Jon’s hand, never taking her eyes off of him.

He responded by bringing her closer and planting a kiss upon her cheek. Now this time Daenerys reddened. She could remember still how sweet his lips felt upon her cheeks, how right it all felt. Finally breaking away from each other they both gazed upon the heart tree, hand in hand in revenant silence. To her, it felt like they were the only two people in the world right there, nothing else seemed to matter. Then she broke the silence by asking Jon something.

“Jon, do you love me?”

“You know I do Dany.”

“Then marry me one day.”

Jon looked to her and shook his head sadly.

“You know I can’t Dany, Father wouldn’t allow it.”

Dany’s hand came to turn his face to look at her.

“But we love one another. If we love one another then why can’t we be together?”

Jon had no answer for her, save for the one she already knew.

“You will wed only when Father decides it, and to whom he chooses. To defy him on this would breed more troubles than imagined.”

“But you do want to marry me, don’t you Jon?”

The Earnest look in her eyes and in her voice only pained Jon more. For she knew that his heart beat for her as strongly as hers beat for him. But Jon was of a nobler sort, the good and obedient son. No matter how much he loved her, he would not think to disobey or disappoint his father.

“I want many things Dany, but it’s like Father always says, no matter how many wishes me make upon stars, they cannot all come true.”

This only saddened her even more to hear, something that hurt Jon to watch. Then an idea sprung to life. Taking her hands in his he looked to the Heart Tree before looking to her.

“We may not be able to wed, but none have said we cannot exchange vows to one another.” She looked confused for a moment, but Jon explained further. “In the lands of Westeros, in my mother’s homelands, marriages are performed before the heart trees, not in a temple or a sept. Man and woman come together and swear their vows of love, loyalty, and unity together before the old gods. If it worked for them, why not us?

He brought he hands closer to him and continued. “We may never be husband and wife, but none will be able to be out first loves. Before the heart tree, before the old gods, let us make a vow that we shall love only each other, and no other. No matter what the future may bring.”

Daenerys could only smile at Jon’s show of affection, a tear or two escaping as she nodded and followed Jon in swearing their vows.

“I, Jonarys of the House Targaryen, son of the High King and blood of the dragon, do swear from this day until my last, that I will love only Daenerys of the House Targaryen for all my days. No matter what may come, no matter how far apart we may be, till the day my body is burned I swear before the old gods that this heart of mine will beat true only for her, for my Daenerys.”

Now she was completely in tears, wiping at them before reciting her own vows as well.

“I, Daenerys of the House Targaryen, Princess of the empire and blood of the dragon do swear from this day until my last that I will love only Jonarys of the House Targaryen for all my days. No matter what may come, no matter how far apart we may be, till the day my body is burned...I swear before the old gods that this heart will beat true only for him...for my Jon.”

Such was the vows they swore to one another, vows they had held to this day, even when fate proved to be cruel to the young star crossed lovers.

Upon her fifteenth name day, Rhaegar announced before all the court of her betrothal to Prince Aegon, Jon’s older brother, and heir to the high throne. Such news tore at her heart and had sent Jon into a quiet rage when news reached him. To keep him from coming to blows with Aegon, Rhaegar had decided it was time for Jon to follow in the footsteps of other targaryen princes and serve the empire wherever it may need. And so it was that he had been assigned to the Dark Legion, to travel the empire and fight the battles that needed fighting. Both she and Lyanna had argued heatedly with Rhaegar about such course of action. Lyanna felt Rhaegar was exiling their son for no apparent reason, Daenerys begging her brother to reconsider, promising to keep the peace between Jon and Aegon. Sadly Rhaegar was set in his decision. This would mark the first true falling out that Lyanna and her brother would have. One that would not mend till two years later, when Jon would return for the first time since joining the Dark Legion.

Playing with the fallen leaves from the Heart Tree, Daenerys could still remember when Jon had returned, how different he looked. At first glance he seemed cold, and strict, but when he had seen her she could see parts of the prince she loved was still there. The night of his return a great feast had been held. All the great houses of the empire, Velaryon, Otherys, Blackfyre, and many others had arrived at imperial invite. She could not remember Summerhall being so full before. The feast had been grand, the wine superb, and the celebrating lasted late into the early morning. Though despite it being thrown in his honor, Jon seemed to take little joy in the celebration, rather, he sneaked out to the gardens to seek out the solace of the heart tree. Daenerys had followed him there and found him kneeling and praying before the laughing tree. When he finished and Daenerys had announced herself, Jon looked to her and finally she could see the pain behind his eyes. She brought him into her arms as he wept. Wept to be home, to be with his family, to be with her, Jon felt as though he’d never feel this again. So much of himself had been lost in fighting, killing, and slaughtering where he was needed to. So to be here now, in the hands of his princess, Jon felt a sense of relief flood over him like he had never felt before. Poor Jon, her poor precious Jon.Anger filled her to think that Rhaegar had sent his son into such a life, had made Jon suffer so, but it faded as quickly as it rose. Jon would not blame his father, he had left willingly and happily when his father announced his decision. Such was the type of man he was, loyal and obedient to his father. Her poor Jon.

As they just knelt there, her cradling his head against her bosom, Daenerys sought to relieve Jon of all his worries, and all his pain. Raising his face to look at hers, she kissed him as he had her all those years ago. She kissed him long and hard, praying all her emotions, all her feelings would be felt by Jon in this simple act of love. That he could feel just how much she loved him, and that she would do anything for him. Their kiss deepened, and she brought his hand to cup her breast with his hand. Jon pulled away and looked at her in surprise, but she only smiled and leaned behind her and loosened the strings to her garment, letting it slide down to pool at her waist. She knelt there before him, her naked beauty bare for him alone. Once again she gently took his hands into her own and placed them onto her breast and her lower back.

“It’s ok Jon, it’s ok.”

When he started about her betrothal and his brother she silenced him with a gentle kiss.

“Rhaegar may wed me to Aegon, but I will choose who I give my maidenhead to. And that someone is you Jon...I want you.”

Whatever resistance Jon may have had faded away under Daenerys’ gentle touch and kisses. That night they made love before the heart tree, amidst the winter roses, with only themselves and the gods as witness to the consummation of their love. Her body felt itself aflame to remember that night. The feel of his hands on her body, his gentle lips dancing over her flesh, the feel of him inside of her. How she longed to see her prince again.

_It has been so long since last we were together, since last we were one. How much longer are you going to be gone for my love...how much longer do I have to go without you?_

“Am I interrupting something?”

Daenerys snapped out of her thoughts to see that she was not alone. The tall and handsome figure of her nephew Aegon now stood over her, a smug grin adorning his face.

“Thinking about someone are you dearest Daenerys?”

“Not that it’s any of your business Aegon, but I came here for some peace and quiet. The palace is filled to the brim with people that this is the only place I can find any privacy.”

“Oh of course, forgive my assumption Dany. It’s just you only ever come out here when you want to think about him.”

The way Aegon spoke that last part, the slight condescension in his voice set Daenerys to glaring at the prince. Standing to her feet she made to leave, but was held up by Aegon reaching out and taking hold of her arm.

“Now that’s rude. I come all this way to see you, and your so quick to run off? How is that fair?”

“I care not for what you think is fair Aegon, only that you release me at once.”

With a laugh he complied with her request, letting go of her arm to walk over and stand before the laughing tree.

“By Balerion I don’t know why father allowed for such a thing to be cultivated in Rhaenys’ garden. This Heart Tree is as out of place here as others I could name.”

Aegon’s hidden sleight against Jon boiled her blood. So prim and proper around Rhaegar, but in secret Aegon showed himself to be a vain and wanton man. Always wanting more when he had everything anyone could ever hope for. He was the polar opposite of Jon in all ways, and none of those qualities appealed to Daenerys in the slightest.

“You’d be surprised how well it fits in actually.”

Both of them turned to gaze upon High Queen Lyanna, flanked by her loyal Imperial guards. Aegon’s face took to frowning, while Daenerys smiled at Lyanna’s appearance. Lyanna’s gaze fell upon Aegon, and a frown marred her face at the prince’s presence.

“Even more so then some that are found naturally from here.”

Aegon took that as his cue to leave, bowing before his stepmother and again to Daenerys, he left both alone to return back to the Palace. Relief filled Daenerys when Aegon departed them, being in his presence only reminded her that sooner rather than later they were going to be wed. So with that unpleasantness out of the way, Daenerys smiled as Lyanna approached her.

“Your grace, I am so glad you could find the time to come and visit.”

“My duties as queen keep me quite busy, but I am always willing to make room for a visit to the gardens.” With Aegon’s departure, Lyanna ordered that she and Daenerys were to be left alone, leading her guards to wait just without to give the ladies some privacy.

Once alone, Lyanna approached and embraced Daenerys warmly in her arms.

“Oh dearest Dany, I had wondered where you disappeared to after you had finished your meal. When I came calling they said you had already left. I knew that I would find you here.”

She gestured around to the winter roses around them. “Forgive me your grace. Had I known you were coming I would have awaited you in my chambers.” Lyanna shook her head and gestured to a small bench near one of the rose bushes, where both sat comfortably amidst their most favorite of all flowers. “As glad as I am to have some time together just the two of us, I fear that Aegon rang true about one thing.” Daenerys’ brow furrowed as Lyanna continued.

“You have been thinking of Jon much of late, haven’t you?”

Her first reaction was surprise, followed by a need to deny it, but Lyanna wasn’t having any of it. “You can’t deny to me what is plain to mine own eyes. Your beauty may blind others, but this old she-wolf is not so easily distracted.”

Daenerys could only blush as she looked down at her lap. Shaking her head with a smile, Lyanna raised her chin up so Daenerys could look her in the eye.

“Believe me Daenerys, I understand exactly how you feel. I too wonder about my boy, of whether or not he is well, or if something may have happened to him.” Lyanna took both her hands into her own and smiled softly at the young princess. “Being apart from someone you love is terrible I know, but even worse is not knowing how they are doing. Believe me Daenerys nothing you are feeling isn’t anything I myself have felt. So hear me when I say that it’s alright to be concerned for Jon, but don’t let worry consume you dear heart. Have faith. Faith that Jon will return to us soon enough. That any day now the horns of Rhaenys and Visenya’s towers will blow and welcome the return of our prince.”

It always amazed Daenerys how easily Lyanna was able to not only see through to what troubled her, but also knew exactly what she needed to hear.

_She’s right, I can’t spend all my free time worrying for Jon. I have to believe he will return._

_Return to me soon._

Feeling her troubles melt away, Daenerys embraced Lyanna with all the affection and thanks her small body was capable of conveying to her mother figure.

As they began to speak to one another of some of the latest news from throughout the empire, a sound echoed through the air that had them both stot to to their feet in a heartbeat. They waited for a moment more before they heard it again, the horns from the towers of Rhaenys and Visenya. A signal for the arrival of royalty.

Both princess and queen raced through the gardens, passed the imperial guards, and towards the balcony overlooking the lands Summerhall was built on. Far down the road, but growing closer with every second, the outline of a large convoy could be seen. Soldiers bearing the imperial banner of House Targaryen, and the black swords of the Dark Legion. Then from up on high a roar filled the air, and a familiar silver figure could be see soaring through the air. They both looked and were barely able to make out the small silhouette of the dragon’s rider as they began to make their descent to the dragonpit.

_He’s back. By the gods he's back._

_Jon has returned._

 

JON

 

Their landing had been abrupt, the workers tending the dragonpit caught unawares when Vhagar made her descent into the stables. Once they touched down on land the work hands made quick work of helping Jon down from Vhagar’s back and unsaddling her. Once that was done they saw her to her den, while Jon was escorted outside where a horse awaited to take him to Summerhall. The dragonpit was built in close proximity to the royal Palace, but still a good ways away that it was faster to travel by horse from place to place than walk. Once atop the dark steed, Jon kicked at it’s sides and went off into a gallop towards the home of his childhood.

The journey from the dragonpit to Summerhall by horse would take little more than ten to fifteen minutes max, more than enough time to arrive just as the rest of his men did. As he pulled up to the front of the palace gates he was welcomed back by Thoros, Auranne, and Daemon, whose arrival had also been just as recent. At their commanders orders the men of the Dark Legion and Shadow Company were dismissed, and allowed to return to the outlying villages where they could find some rest and relaxation.

Jon meanwhile was escorted with his fellow commanders inside. Passing the archway, and through the gates, a royal escort awaited the four of them. Their escorts guiding them the way through to the grand throne room, where the High King and the rest of the court awaited them. As they were escorted through the halls Jon would gaze upon the statues and paintings that filled the walls, images of past kings and queens of old. They passed grand portraits of the first High King Aegon the Dragon, and beside him his sister-wives, Rhaenys and Visenya. The busts of Kings Aenry and Maegor followed, as well as the Old King and Viserys the first.

Every single member of the royal family, for good or for poor, was displayed for all to see. All the way through to Jon’s own father the current High King. When Jon was but a boy, his father would take him through these halls and regale him with the stories of the kings of old. His favorite was of King Daeron the first, a youthful king who had expanded the empire to heights not seen since the first High King. When playing with other noble children he would always pretend he was the Young Dragon, conquering the Dothraki or the kingdoms of slaver's bay. A hero who slayed the dreaded horse lords, and set free all the enslaved within the three cities. Innocent dreams of youth, for none could imagine becoming such without becoming as skilled a killer as the Young Dragon was. Something Jon, sad as he was to admit, was more acquainted with being than he wanted to. As they neared their destination Jon took a moment to stop and admire the last four portraits before the throne room doors. The first was of his great great grand sire, King Aegon V, or Aegon the unlikely as some had come to call him. Others described him as the common king, a nickname earned for all the years he spent living among the common people of the empire. Some may have sneered at him, but Jon found him to have been a good king regardless. For no king before him had been so understanding of his subjects, and had not been as beloved, save for the old king and his queen, than Aegon V. Then came his great grand sire, Jaehaerys II, and after him his own grandfather Aerys II. Both portraits did them little favors. Jaehaerys looked as sickly and pale in his portrait as he had in life, and Aerys’ only managed to capture the madness that took root in him.

The last he gazed upon was a face he knew very well, though the portrait seemed to fail to capture his essence. High King Rhaegar stood tall and proud in his dark ruby encrusted armor, the sword of the conqueror held proudly in hand. But this wasn’t the father he knew, he hardly recognized the man in the painting. Rhaegar was a soft and kind man who loved above all else music and singing, not steel and sword. When he was young, youngest he could remember being, his mother would carry him through Rhaenys’ Gardens where father would be. Perched on a small bench beside one of the pools. Harp in hand, he would fill the afternoon air with his music, mesmerizing all who heard it’s melody. He remembered because he could still see his mother cry whenever his father played.

When he finally asked her one day why she cried, his mother smiled and kissed his forehead.

“There is a sadness in your father’s music, and it saddens me to hear him play so.”

She would hold him right and breathe in the herbs and berries he’d be washed in, smiling as she spun him around. “

You are so much like your father my little dragon, so soft, so caring, and so filled with love for your family. Jon. Jon…”

“Jon!”

He snapped out of his reminiscing when Daemon gave him a gentle shrug. “Jon, we’re here.”

Thanking his friend, Jon composed himself and stood to his full height as the doors to the throne room were opened. Inside was filled to the brim with nobles of the court, Palace guards were at attention all around, the Imperial guard stood at attention by the high throne, and the other members of the royal family. Standing at the feet of the throne he could see his dear uncle Aemon, his less beloved uncle Viserys, his brother and sister Aegon and Rhaenys, and of course his dear mother with Daenerys by her side. Then, high up the steps upon the obsidian throne of kings stood his father, the eighteenth high king of the Targaryen Empire, High King Rhaegar the first, smiling down at him.

A herald stepped forward and quieted the noisy crowd with the sound of his staff pounding against the ground.

“Behold, lords and ladies! Your Graces! Prince Jonarys of the House Targaryen, second son of the empire, and blood of the dragon has returned!”

Jon took several steps forward, passing the herald and coming to the middle of the throne room. Then he placed his fist to his heart and bowed before the high throne and his king.

“Behold our prince of the blood returned, his victory in Valysar a resounding success! He returns to you now oh highest of kings, humble and obedient as ever. What say you your grace?”

The herald’s voice boomed across the room to the king, who took in his kneeling son as if to take in his measure. It had been many years since Jon had left these halls, and he was certain that he would appear different than when he left.

Finally a smile broke on the king’s face, and he bid Jon to stand.

“No words can express our joy in the return of our son.” Descending from the throne, Rhaegar came to stand before Jon and embraced him before all the court.

“BEHOLD! My son has returned! House Targaryen is whole once again!!”

At this the entire court rose in cheers and clapping, welcoming back the prince home once more. Their excitement mattered little to Jon in the face of his family. First to welcome him after his father was his mother, who held Jon as tightly to her as she could.

“My boy, my babe, my young dragon. It has been far too long since I last laid mine eyes upon you. Let me take you in and see what kind of man my son has become.”

For a moment Jon wished that she wouldn’t, lest she see that the man he has had to become is nothing like the man she had always envisioned him being. Yet the warmth that radiated from her as she gazed upon her boy cast aside those thoughts as he was greeted by another member of the family.

“Jonarys, Vhagar has blessed this day that we find you returned home as well as you are,” The ancient tones of his Uncle Aemon bid his mother to let go, and let Jon be greeted by his favorite uncle.

“Uncle Aemon, you didn’t need to come all this way for me.”

“Come now, I have not had the pleasure of your presence in three years, not since that incident at Norvos. A small ride from Pentos is nothing to be concerned over in the prospect of seeing you my boy.”

A small smile came to his face as Jon embraced Aemon gently, the prince being well into his life so Jon didn’t wish to cause him any pain. The next person to greet him was his sister Rhaenys, which only consisted in her gently placing a kiss upon his cheeks quickly. A falsehood for the partons of court. No welcome awaited him from his uncle Viserys, who sneered and turned his back, something that a few at could gasped at, but nothing that Jon paid any mind to.

Then there was his brother Aegon.

“Jon, By Meraxes mercy it is good to see you again brother.”

Aegon took Jon quickly into his arms and hugged him, an action Jon returned after an awkward moment or two. His brother’s good cheer caught Jon off guard, but he wouldn’t be the one to deny such pleasant greetings. Once they were finished, Aegon released him and flashed Jon the most charming smile he could.

“It’s wonderful to see you back home again brother. After all these years I feared you’d never have the chance to step inside again.”

“It does me good to be home again brother,” Jon said,

“Indeed. Though I hope all those years in the field haven’t left you impaired to royal etiquette. It had been so long after all that some of us feared you might be as feral and uncivilized as the barbarians you fight against when next we saw you. It does my heart good to see the worries were...unsubstantiated."

Jon refused an answer to Aegon’s jape, only shook his hand once more and then turned to the last of the family, and the one he was most anxious to see. Standing there in a vision of blue was Daenerys. The jewels in her hair helped illuminate her already extraordinary eyes to shining like stars in a night sky. Even after all these years she was still the most beautiful thing in the entire world. Instead of emotional or heartfelt welcomes, Daenerys simply offered her hand out to Jon.

“It has been too long prince. I trust you are well after being so long gone from us?”

Indeed I am princess,” Jon took her hand gently in his and brought it close to his face. “I cannot express my joy at reuniting with so many loved ones after so long.”

Then he placed the gentlest of kisses on the back of her hand. A gesture that sent many of the women in the crowd to gasping or giggling, and a faint trace of red to grace Daenerys’ face. Reluctantly letting go, Jon once more faced his father and saluted him again.

“My King, words cannot express the joy my heart feels at such a welcoming. Your son thanks you your grace.”

Rhaegar smiled his sad smile and placed his open hand to his heart before nodding to his son. “There is nothing to thank me for, only more joy to be had in celebration of your return.”

Addressing the court, Rhaegar announced to all, “All throughout the imperial provinces and protectorates shall feast and celebrate the return of Prince Jonarys for thirty days and thirty nights! Let all in my realm share in the joy at the return of my son to where he belongs!” He looked back to Jon and placed a hand upon his shoulder.

“Home with Family.”

Later that evening, after Jon had had time to rest and readjust to Summerhall, Jon had been summoned to the grand banquet hall of the palace. A most glorious feast has been prepared, hundreds of people filled the hall as they danced and drank and feasted on the bounties of the empire. Jon had arrived in his usual attire, a dark doublet with matching pants, and a lone ring with a small cut stone of dragonglass adorning his finger. As he was announced at the entrance, all eyes looked upon him, and the whispering began in earnest. As he made his way for the high table he could hear the guests whispering among themselves, and women giggling and blushing as he passed by.

_There he is._

_By the gods he looks so…_

_Almost as handsome as his noble brother and honored father._

_Are you mad? He’s not half the beauty of a true Targaryen._

_More wolf than dragon in him, just like his mother._

_A dark sort of handsome._

_The Rogue Prince…_

That last one grated his nerves slightly. Vhagar damn the persons who first started that rumor about him. Some gods damned fool spoke of Jon being a black sheep among the royal family, that like his distant uncle of old he felt bitter and resentful of being denied a crown his own. Some whispered even darker rumors that he plotted for his own grabs at power, that he sought to seize the high throne when King Rhaegar passed. Rumors he would never give mind to, until the day they began including his mother in their gossips. At that Jon had become enraged, his dragon blood aflame with righteous fury. He had tasked his father’s lord of secrets, Varys the spider, to root out the sources and to relay them to the imperial guards. They would deal with such gossips in kind.

_Let the world think ill of me if it must, but I will never allow for them to think ill of my mother._

He drove such thoughts away as he came to the High Table, where the rest of the royals were already gathered. Joining his family Jon was seated to the right of his Mother, and to the left of his aunt Daenerys. Next to her sat their uncle Aemon, and beside him Prince Viserys. Meanwhile on the other side seated next to his father was his brother Aegon, and next to him was Rhaenys and her husband Leanor of House Velaryon. Once seated Rhaegar had the first course served, suckling honeyed ham, basilisk isle eggs, and many more mouth watering dishes. The finest wines from the empire were presented before the royals, and their noble guests, all made sure to have full cups at all times. As the feast was in full swing the High King stood and raised his goblet high into the air.

“A toast my good friends of the empire! A toast to the safe return of my son Prince Jonarys! To Prince Jonarys!!”

The hall echoed with cries of ‘Prince Jonarys’ as goblets and cups clanged with one another. Jon humbly toasted with his mother and aunt, and his father when he reached his cup over to his son. As the night went on the dancing resumed once again. Jon had asked the honor of the first dance to his mother, and was happily accepted. In kind Daenerys was seen escorting their uncle Aemon to the ballroom floor, despite his weak protests. Even with no eyesight their great uncle was truly a gifted dancer now as he was in his youth. The music filled the room as the crowd took to dancing together. Step by step, pace by pace the occupants of the dance and twirled and glided across the room. Jon’s mother was blissfully enjoying herself, a tremendous smile gracing her lips as Jon took to twirling her about a few time. Mother had a special place in her heart for dancing. She always said when she danced she could imagine she would be back home in Westeros, dancing the night away with her brothers or her father.

As the music began to soften, the crowd took to slow dancing, giving mother and son the chance to talk some.

“Well Jonarys, it seems your skills at dancing are as sharp as they have ever been.”

“When I was a boy my mother always insisted that a skilled swordsman could easily be an equally skilled dancer. She was quite adamant in insisting I practice dancing as much as I did the sword.”

At this Lyanna gasped lightly and smacked his arm as they both laughed. As they continued their dance Jon’s eyes took the room in. The High table had almost emptied save for Ser Leanor, father, and Viserys. On the floor dancing too was his brother Aegon and sister Rhaenys. He also spotted Daenerys now sharing a dance with his friend Daemon, whose own sister Daemona was gracefully dancing with Auranne Velaryon. As his eyes lingered a little more on Daenerys, Lyanna spoke up.

“What’s troubling your mind my son?”

“Nothing mother.”

“Nothing my arse.” 

Her grey eyes were boring into Jon’s own, the truth would not remain hidden long.

“If not your mind, then is it your heart that troubles you so?”

At this Jon gave no answer.

“I know it hurts Jon, believe me I do. But you have to understand your fathers reasons for why he does what he does.”

“It does not matter what I believe or feel mother. All is as his grace wills it, and we must see his will through no matter our feelings on the matter.”

Jon could see it saddened her to hear him speak as such, so they spoke no more. Instead she was simply content to finish the dance with her only child. When the music ended his mother kissed him goodbye before returning to join the king at their table. As the next song began, Jon turned to ask a dance of Daenerys, only to find Aegon had swooped in and stolen her for the next one. The smug look his brother shot him was beginning to foul his mood, and ruin his desire for further dancing. He planned to return to the high table too when a pair of hands caught his.

“Would you care to join me for another dance your grace?”

Jon looked upon the sight of Lady Daemona Blackfyre, Daemon’s younger twin sister. Like her brother she had all the beauty and traits of dragon blood, but where her brother preferred a mix of red and black, she dressed as dramatically in black as Jon himself. Though Jon had no desire to share the dance floor with Aegon, he decided to accept the invite. The music began and they began dancing in kind, the music guiding them step by step. It was a slower paced song than was previously played, Jon and Daemona caught in the midst of the crowd as they danced with one another. Though try as he might, Jon couldn't help himself from glancing over to watch Daenerys and Aegon dance.

“Is my prince dissatisfied with his dance partner?”

Jon felt himself blush in embarrassment at her inquiry.

“No no my lady, my mind is just wandering tonight.”

Daemona seemed to accept his answer as they continued their dance. Glancing over his shoulder he could see Daemona zeroing in on just who it was Jon was observing. A almost sad smile came to her face when she looked back to Jon.

“They make such a lovely pair don’t they?”

Jon wouldn’t answer her, so she continued.

“Almost as lovely as you and the princess would make. Truly it was a shame the High King decided to pair her and Aegon to wed.”

A twinge of anger filled his eyes and he made to end their dance, only her tight grip had kept him from leaving. “Forgive me, I do not mean to insult you my prince. Merely to observe what any with eyes could see plainly.”

“What is that, my lady” Jon asked?

“That you pine for your brother’s betrothed, that you desire what has been given to him by you noble father. Such are observations that continue to give life to the rumors that circle you, Rogue Prince.”

Again there it was, that damn title that he had no desire for. Jon may begrudge his brother for his betrothal to Daenerys, but Jon had no other such aspirations like the gossip mongers claimed.

_Let my brother sit the high throne and rule for all I care. I have not the stomach nor the desire to rule a realm such as ours_.

For all it’s beauty and wonder, the Targaryen empire had it’s share of filth and shame that Jon was not so blind to as other were.

_Slavery, separation by class, starvation, abuse of power, all issues that many are content to turn a blind eye to._

Not Jon, not since he was a babe in his mother's arms. When he was old enough his mother made sure he knew of the suffering of others. That one day he might do right by them, and help where he could. Instead he ended up becoming a warlord for his father’s empire, a slayer instead of a savior.

The prince and lady were interrupted in their dance when the sounds of a goblet hitting the ground drew their attention. They, and many other guests looked to the sight of Aegon standing head to toe covered in wine, and Daenerys fleeing the hall.

Gods be good. What’s happened to Dany? Excusing himself, Jon hurried after Daenerys. Only to be stopped by the familiar grizzled face of the High Commander of the Imperial guard.

“Please wait a moment my prince. The King asks to speak with you.”

“Ser Gihren please, I need to check on…”

But the elder knight’s hold on his arm kept him from giving chase. “In a moment my prince, just wait." At this point the High King stood from his table and addressed everyone present. “I beg my lords and ladies to forgive the outburst, the celebrations have been long and fruitful, sometimes young blood runs wild.”

The guests shared a sigh and a laugh at his father’s reaction, the High King gesturing to the orchestra.

“Master Lecto, please continue playing. The night is still young, and there is more celebrating to be had.”

The head composer of Summerhall nodded and quickly turned to strike up the music once more. Soon everything returned to how it was. The dancing resumed, the wine and food being served, and laughter filled the hall once more. Finally let go of by the High Commander, the two were soon joined by King Rhaegar, who dismissed Ser Gihren before addressing his son.

“Join me on the balcony Jon, there is much we have to discuss.”

Though he would rather have been chasing after Daenerys, Jon knew he could not deny his father this. So he nodded in agreement and followed his father out to the balcony. Outside the moon was high and the stars shined as bright as they could. Looking down Jon was able to observe the torches that illuminated Rhaenys’ Garden down below.

“Are you adjusting back home ok Jon?” the question was simple enough, and Jon was glad enough to answer him.

“Of course father, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I never said you wouldn’t. I was just concerned that this all might be a bit too...much for you to return to on your first night back in years.”

Jon would assure his father that everything was quite alright. “Though I confess concern for Daenerys,” Jon’s father frowned then. “She seemed quite upset. What did Aegon say to invoke such a reaction out of her?”

“It could have been anything,” Rhaegar said. “Or nothing Jon. My sister has always been like a flame, dancing to and fro without warning and without care. Such is her nature"

That did not ring true to Jon. Daenerys might seem without care sometimes, but if she were truly as his father had just described, then she would not have stomached being promised to someone like Aegon for so long. Jon looked to his father and a flash of disappointment crossed his face.

_Sometimes I fear father that you are completely oblivious to the true nature of those you love most._

When Rhaegar looked to him, he grabbed Jon’s shoulder and smiled at his son.

“Enough talk of the troubles of our family, that was not why I called you out here.”

“Then what was father,” Jon asked? “Why have Ser Gihren keep me from going after Dany?”

His father looked at him like he almost expected Jon to know better.

“For that very reason Jon,” His father said, causing Jon’s brows to raise in confusion. “I am not the only one who takes note of how you and Daenerys act around each other, even before your departure. Of how you gaze upon her longer than is proper. Of the amount of correspondences between you two vastly outnumbering any other in the royal family. Your mother included.”

It was true. In the years since he left to begin his tour of duty, the two of them had exchanged scores of letters between each other. Even his mother he did not write to nearly as much as he did Dany.

“What business is it of anyone's? So Daenerys and I shared more letters than some think appropriate. So I look longer than some courtier thinks is proper. Father, you know how I feel about her. You have always known!”

That little outburst at the end had Jon lower his head in shame. Of course his father knew all this. He already understood all of this, but it didn’t change what was suppose to be. No matter how much it hurt both father and son.

“Jon,” Rhaegar started. “Do not think me cruel to you or your feelings. Were it possible I would be happy to allow for my beloved son and dearest sister to wed each other for the love they share. Alas, it is not meant to be.”

“Only because you decide so.” The bitterness in his voice was not lost on Rhaegar, and he shook his head in disappointment when Jon spoke as such.

“It is essential that Aegon and Daenerys be wed Jon.” Jon turned to look elsewhere while his father tried to get him to listen. “Please Jon, you must understand. There are reasons for why I have decided upon this match, reasons only know to a few.”

At this Jon’s interest perked. “What reasons? Which few? Father you are making little sense."

“Perhaps. Just know my reasons are of great importance, and respect my decision.”

The finality in Rhaegar’s tone gave Jon no further room for arguments. So he didn’t pursue the subject further. Rhaegar took Jon and had him stand before him, his hand resting on the young prince’s shoulders, his violet eyes looking into Jon’s greys.

“Take heart son, for as I have my reasons for your brother and my sister to wed, so to do I have plans for you also.”

“What plans would those be your grace,” Jon asked as Rhaegar smiled at his son.

“Your future Jon. A future that no longer sees you wielding a sword and killing for the empire any longer.”

At this Jon’s eyes widened as his father gestured out towards the palace and the city beyond. “I have long debated on what would be next for you when you returned from tour of duty. After much debate, and wise counsel from your mother and uncle, I have decided that in place of a warrior sword, you shall take up the ruling scepter."

Now that Jon had never expected to hear from his father.

“Your uncle Aemon will return to Pentos once all the celebrating is done. When he leaves you shall accompany him, study under him, learn to rule from under him. Then, once you are ready, you will be given a governor's position in one of our provinces or protectorates.

Jon was still processing all this when his father continued, “I have also been thinking that it is time you were wed to a proper bride. As such your mother and I have made inquiries among our leal lords and ladies. Many of them are very open to a match between you and their daughters. Lord Velaryon’s daughter Leanore, the Lady Demona Blackfyre, Korra of Norvos, even Lady Carina of Volantis seemed open to the match-”

“Father please!”

Jon’s outburst startled his father, but that was when he saw that it was too much at one time for his son. Nodding, his embraced his son and whispered an apology to him.

“Forgive me my son, I suppose this is all a little too much for you.”

He gestured back inside where the party was in full swing. “Go, return to the feast. Think on what I have shared with you and we will talk on this again soon.”

Jon nodded and bowed before excusing himself from the balcony. Though his father had wanted him to return to the feast, Jon had other plans. First of all to check on a certain princess, and see how she fared. Unfortunately still more interruptions kept him from pursuing Daenerys.

“My dear brother, where are you off to in such a hurry?”

Jon stopped and slowly turned to look at the smug form of his older brother Aegon. Refined gold and red clothes covered him head to toe, all the best designers from Volantis worked on keeping Aegon happy and well stocked with all sorts of fine wares for his uses. Now was no different.

“Brother where could you be off to in such a hurry. Please stay a while longer, the evening’s festivities have not even reached their peak.”

_You know full well where I am off to you pompous ass!_

It always grated Jon’s nerves when he spoke to him, Aegon always trying to sound so much better, so far removed from any other in the family simply because he was next in line to rule the empire. It astounded Jon to no end to think that there was once a time when he and Aegon had been as thick as thieves. Now all they seem to share is a family name, and a competitive rivalry between the two of them.

Aegon gestured for a servant to bring over a drink for the two of them. Begrudgingly, Jon accepted the drink, raising a glass in toast of tonight’s celebrations before drinking from their cups.

“Ah, white wine from the vineyards at Myr, truly one of the best brewed here in the empire. Only another of the great wonders that has come about from our dynasty.”

“It was indeed a very good vintage.”

Aegon looked at him like he gave too simple of a description to describe what they had just tasted.

“It seems my fears have been realized. All those years spent slumming around in hills, camps, and caves have finally taken their toll. Too much time drinking fermented milks has not done you any kindness Jon. But fear not, we’ll reintroduce you to civilization in no time at all.”

The words his brother may have seemed sincere, but Jon had grown accustomed to the double meaning behind everything his brother said to him. From one side of his mouth he would pay Jon compliment, and with the other he would slight him behind his back. Such was the nature of Aegon for years now.

“I actually prefer the hard life that being a soldier has given me. It is a true way to live, honest, true, a life of true substance.”

Aegon’s cheer seemed to dimmer some at Jon’s words.

“True Substance? You think living a grueling life as a soldier can truly be so filling? I see men return daily from battles that seem to lack what you call, “True Substance” brother. All I see are empty and broken fools marching back after giving what little they had to show the rest of us that they aren’t completely worthless.”

“And there lies the true substance. Their lives, It wasn’t handed to them on a platter like some people. Those men worked hard day in and day out, giving everything so that the people that live blissfully unaware of the dangers that exist can keep living blissfully unawares. It’s a hard life, but it surely is an honest one and true one, unlike others which are counterfeit.”

Aegon no longer looked pleased, now he was beginning to turn agitated, almost enraged with each word Jon spoke.

“Always so high and mighty, always so humble and so noble aren’t you brother? Acting like you are so above everything, that you settling for life as one of the knights from your mother’s stories makes up for not being the heir your mother always wanted you to be. Jealousy, plain and simple it is jealousy for the brother who will be handed everything, while you will be given only what leftovers you can find.”

“Unlike you, I earned everything I have. Even as a prince nothing was given to me, I had to earn it. My command, my men’s loyalty, and even my blade, but you know that better than I now don’t you Aegon?”

Now his brother was becoming flush with anger. Jon had brought up a sore spot between them from years ago, when they were both different people. As was his by rights of birth, Aegon would ascend the high throne one day to succeed their father, but as for their ancestral sword Blackfyre, that was something their father had decided would go to Jon. Aegon would go on to say that mother had whispered in father’s ear to bequeath the ancestral sword of their family to Jon since he would never rule as High King. The truth of the matter was that Rhaegar had come to this decision on his own. He had been impressed when Jon had decided to join the Dark Legion rather than take up a cushy governor's position like other princes have. So before all of court, the day before Jon left to join the Dark Legion, Rhaegar presented the great ancestral blade Blackfyre to Jon, naming him the new owner of the blade.

“Wield it well, and know that you fight for the realm with the very sword used to forge it.”

Aegon had been livid, yet nothing he said would convince father to reverse his decision. And while Jon would forever be honored by the gift his father had given him, he knew it would only add to the animosity between him and Aegon. But right now this wasn’t about old slights, or what belonged to who, right now was about his brother trying to goad Jon into embarrassing himself. A bait that Jon swore he would not bite at.

Aegon smiled almost cruelly as he spoke next, “What is a sword compared to everything else I will inherit. You can spend the rest of your days trotting through dirt and grass for all I care. I meanwhile will be enjoying the best that the empire has to offer." A cruel grin plastered his face as he whispered to Jon, "Not to mention it’s women."

Jon almost lost it there at that last part. He knew what his brother was implying, what he wanted Jon to think about. Were they not amidst hundreds of guests, and he had other priorities, Jon might have made Aegon answer for that last remark. But he would not allow himself to shame his father, or give Aegon the satisfaction of getting a rise out of him. So here it would end. Gathering up all the restraint he had, Jon gave his brother a courtly half bow.

“As much as I would like to continue this conversation I have other matters to see to brother. If you will excuse me.”

“Of course Jon,” Aegon laughed. “Do give my best to dearest Dany when you see her won’t you?”

Jon spoke not a word nor gave Aegon anymore heed, he quickly turned and hurried out of the ballroom, and on the heels of a princess.

 

DAENERYS

 

She couldn’t stand to be there for another second. Rushing past guests and servants alike, Dany hurried as fast as her feet could carry her to the stables. Once there she mounted her beloved silver and was off towards the dragonpit.

As the scenery rushed by her all she could think of was what she had been told, what Aegon had smugly revealed to her as they danced together on the ballroom floor. To even think of it made her blood run cold, almost as much as having Aegon’s hands touching her. Family or not, Aegon was among her least favorite people in the entire world. His arrogance and sense of entitlement only eclipsed by his desire to have whatever he didn’t already. Not that it had always been that way. Once, long long ago, Aegon and she and Jon had been as close as possible to one another. Back then it was her brother Viserys who was the bane of their lives. But then poor Queen Elia passed, and as they grew older Aegon began to change. He became much more vain, seeking whatever chance he could to remind Jon and herself that he was to be the next High King.

Then he began to desire Daenerys. Aegon had many noble women throwing themselves at his feet, and many of them he enjoyed to their fullest. But it was Dany, the one who wouldn’t prostrate herself before him and offer herself up that he became obsessed with. His jealousy only growing when he learned of her own feelings towards Jon. There was no doubt in her mind that Aegon played some part in their betrothal, despite what he might claim.

_He thinks just because my brother has betrothed me to him that he owns me._

_I am not some prize to be won or owned._

_I will NEVER be Aegon’s!_

After a hard ride Daenerys finally arrived at the dragonpit. Once Silver was properly fastened she made her way inside, the gates opening for her at her approach. Once inside she was escorted by one of the guards on duty. With torch in hand he guided her deeper into the structure until they came upon the dragon dens. She dismissed the guard and had him hand his torch over to her. Walking into the large domed area she passed by several openings where the unmistakable sound of something breathing could be heard.

Inside each of the dens one of the royal dragons, and dragons of their closest of friends, slept peacefully undisturbed. So many different types, each so beautiful and unique.

There was her brothers own dragon, the noble Verthroian the gentle. Among all the dragons his was the most peaceful of them all. Rare to be angered, and always friendly to even strangers. His jade scales made him a sight to behold, almost as wondrous as the next two.

Sharing a den together were the dragons of her niece and nephew Aegon and Rhaenys. Her dragon Artax was a copper scaled dragon who had long since mated with Aegon’s own Goldfyre. His dragon was of a like not seen since King Aegon the second’s Sunfyre, a golden beauty with a yellowish wing membrane. Since hatchlings the two had always been together, flying and hunting together whenever their riders weren’t with them. Wonderful creatures the both of them.

As she passed them she noted that Ser Leanor’s own dragon Seafyre was tucked away in it’s own den. A smoky blue colored dragon, Seafyre had belonged to Leanor’s grandfather before he passed. Now he rode the beast that sailors had come to call the Sea Snake, so named after his late great ancestor, Corlys Velaryon.

Then she passed without note her brother Visery’s dragon Traxes, a small gangly thing much like its rider. A yellowish color dragon that seemed a poor imitation to Aegon’s Goldfyre. So much so that some in court had taken to mockingly calling it ‘Pissfyre’. Even now she could remember her brother so wroth to hear such rumors that mocked his Traxes. Poor Viserys, never one to forget a slight, and always powerless to do anything except make empty threats.

The red dread of Lord Blackfyre, Meraxes, slept in the den beside Jon’s own Vhagar. As beautiful and as dangerous as Vhagar is, Meraxes was a blood red scaled serpent who terrorized the enemies of the empire. With dark wing membrane that stood out against the red of his scales he proved himself a fearsom sight to behold.

When she neared her own dragon's den, the silver terror lifted her head and peeked out to see Daenerys from her own next door. Dany smiled as she ran her hand across Vhagar’s head, the dragon letting out a slight hiss in pleasure at Dany’s menstruations. Aside from her own, Jon’s dragon had always been her favorite of the dragons. Beautiful, fearsome, and powerful, Vhagar was a dragon any could be proud to call their own. Finally once she had stopped the dragon withdrew herself back into her den, and Dany finally arrived at her destination. Her own dragon’s den.

Placing the torch beside the entrance she stood before the dens opening, listening to the sound of her beloved dragon resting.

_I am sorry for waking you dear heart, but I need your strength right now._

Almost as though hearing her thoughts the sounds of chains moving could be heard, and out came the largest of all the dragons thus far. Her beloved Balerion. To say he was the largest was no small exaggeration. He was a hulking behemoth that stood taller than even Jon’s own Vhagar, and she was larger than the others before her. Black scaled from head to toe, and a blood red wing membrane gave her dragon an appearance of a fiend that seemed capable of bringing about the end of the world. Hence why people had come to start calling him the Black Dread reborn.

Balerion lowered himself down to face Daenerys at eye level. Once he had she approached him, and gently pressed herself against his face.

“Balerion, it’s only when I am with you that I feel strong. Your strength gives me strength, helping me through all my worries.”

He responded by nuzzling her back, bringing a smile to her as she could feel his warmth and comfort for her. And there they remained for some time. Dany simply resting against Balerion, feeling his strength pour into him through their touch.

Their moment ended when the sounds of footsteps could be heard. She removed herself from Balerion and turned to gaze upon the one person she was actually happy to see.

“Dany, are you well?”

She smiled when Jon drew closer. She reached out and took his hands into her own, nodding as she did so.

“I am now. I just needed to see Balerion for a little while.”

Jon smiled and nodded in understanding. Since childhood all the royal children had some unexplained bond with their dragons. When they were together they felt stronger, they felt faster, they felt like they could do anything. Even when they were ill the dragons would give strength to them and help to men their sickly bodies.Scholars and healers from all throughout the empire were dumbfounded at this unexplainable bond between dragon and rider.

As the two stood there amidst the dragons, a calming silence overtook them both. They became content to just stand there hand in hand as the dragons slumbered soundly. So finally Jon decided to end it when he spoke to her.

“Dany, about what happened back in the ballroom...what happened? What did Aegon say to you?”

“It was Aegon being Aegon Jon. No need to be concerned.”

Jon let go of her hands and cupped her face so she would look at him.

“Dany please, don’t lie to me.”

Frowning, she gently removed jon’s hands and turned to Balerion again. Then she turned to Jon and said.

“Not here Jon. Let's go somewhere else.” '

“Where?”

She smiled as she looked to Balerion then back to Jon. Minutes later they were saddled and tearing through the night sky. Passing beyond the borders of Summerhall they headed north along the dragon road, passing village and town overhead on the back of her dragon. After flying off for a time they came to a rest in the woods to the south of Myr. Balerion came to land beside a lake that was located deep in the woods, hidden from the rest of the world it seemed.

Once they had dismounted Dany led Jon to the lake side, hand in hand they came to the water’s edge to gaze upon it’s beauty.

They seated themselves at the edge and removed their shoes to dip their feet in the cool lake water. This place had long been a secret hideaway for the two of them. A place they could disappear to when palace life grew too constrictive for them. They stumbled upon it while flying one day, Vhagar had acted weirdly and dove into the forest, and into the lake itself, bringing Jon along with her. Dany and Balerion had descended to find both dragon and rider soaking wet from head to toe, a sight that still brings a laugh to her when she thinks on it. Over the years as children they would fly off and come here just the two of them. Then as they grew older, and Jon was sent out to fight his father’s battles, they would rendezvous here when time allowed for it.

Jon laid himself down on the cool grass looking up at the stars above. She focused her attention on the lake, watching leaves fall here and there cause ripples on the water’s surface. A smile graced her face when she felt Jon’s fingers dance along the line of her back. Hands hardened by years of battle strangely felt soft and cool on her skin. His touch always felt like the softest of feathers on her, but also set her skin on fire.

Turning to him she lowered herself down to kiss him. He responded eagerly, giving back as much as she gave to him, their passion beginning to rise as their hands took to roaming one another's bodies. She could feel her body quaking with excitement. It had been so long since last they were like this, and she was not going to let it go to waste.

Breaking off the kiss She smiled at Jon as she stood over him. Her hands went behind her to the straps holding her dress on. Giving them a light tug they easily came undone, and slowly the dress slid off her form, exposing her beauty for Jon alone to see. She looked behind to see Jon stare at her with a wild hunger burning behind his eyes. It excited her to see such hunger from her prince, and even more so that she brought this hunger out in him. Smiling she decided to taunt him even more, and dived head first into the lake. When she came back up, the water cascading down her body made her seem like a goddess, Jon could conjure the strength to look away. He was helplessly trapped under her power. She ran her hands through her wet hair and then looked at Jon. Beckoning him with her finger to join her, he wasted no time in disrobing himself and joining her in the water.

Together they swam freely and without reservation, the only light illuminating them was the moon and the stars above. Daenerys swam fast and loose, forcing Jon to chase after him like a cat and a mouse through the water. When finally she was caught he held her close and kissed with all the pent up passion burning inside him. His hands traveled over every inch of her body, from her smooth hips to her firm breasts to the heat between her legs.

A gasp caught in her throat when she felt Jon’s fingers enter her warmth. The sensation of him stroking her inside was a bliss beyond words. She returned the gesture in kind when her hand took hold of his erect manhood and began to stroke it with long and powerful strides. Now it was Jon gasping in pleasure. When his fingers began stroking harder so did her hands, very soon both let out a choked breath as they reached their release.

Coming to the lake’s edge they took to the grass and laid in one another’s arms. Dany’s head rested atop of Jon’s scared chest, her body trying to settle down after she had cum, Jon’s chest breathing hard as he too tried to slow down his heart beat. Their teasing of one another sapping them of energy for the moment. But soon enough they were recovered, and Daenerys found herself lifted on top of Jon, his manhood pressing against her, and a look of savage desire filing his eyes.

“I want you.”

She smiled at him and raised herself over him before whispering.

“I am yours.”

The in one quick thrust she sheathed his manhood within her. They stayed still for a moment, both reacquainting themselves with each other before Jon took her by the hips and began lifting her up and down upon his member. As she rode atop him she brought his hands to her breast and urged him to hold tightly to her. Jon’s hands kneaded and pulled and played with her mounds, his fingers teasing her erect nipples, which pulled a sigh of ecstasy from her. She responded by raising herself high on those luscious long legs of hers and taking his length all in one thrust. Jon had to steel himself when she did so, less he come undone then and there, and he had only just begun with her.

“Fuck the singers, fuck whatever any man or woman might claim. There is nothing in this world more captivating, more enticing, more beautiful than you Daenerys Targaryen. Nothing!”

He had no idea how it lifted her heart to him him say that about her. People of the court would always pay her the same courtesy and compliments that all other members of the royal family received. Some would boast that she was the single greatest beauty in all the lands. A compliment made to her niece Rhaenys before her surely. Despite all the flatterers that came calling and offering praise, it was only when Jon spoke such praise that she truly believed it. And it thrilled her to no end.

_My prince, my love, please love me more. Please feel how perfect we are with one another. There is no other who could make me feel so besides you. Feel it now, feel our love as we two are one now._

Her eyes began to feel heavy as the pleasure kept rising within her. She shook her head to keep her eyes from closing, wanting to seen every moment of her love making with Jon. Then he released her breast in one hand and replaced it with his mouth, sucking lightly and teasing the tip while he continued thrusting inside of her.

_Yes, by Balerion yes! This is what I have missed. The feeling of being one with the the one I love most._

She looked down at Jon at her breast and held him closer to her.

_It matters not what Rhaegar decides or what Aegon says. I am meant for Jon alone, and he is meant for me._

Suddenly Jon’s thrust began to quicken, his hands planted on her hips as his head bent back and his breath became harder and more ragged. Dany knew he was reaching his end, and so was she. The tight sensation within her seemed near ready to burst. So threw her hand around Jon’s neck as she began moaning faster and faster. Then finally it came to an end, and Jon and she both released with one another. Both drained of strength, they crashed back onto the grass as Jon gathered her up in his arms and held close to him in total bliss.

This was as close to perfection as Dany though she could get. Alone in the arms of the man she loved after making beautiful love together, nothing could ruin her mood.

Then her thoughts drifted back to the party, and to what Aegon had told her. Between all the dancing and music, among all the laughter and merriment he whispered to her something that make her blood run cold.

“I have news for you Daenerys, such that will surely fill you with joy to hear. Father says it’s time we were wed. At the end of the celebration, at the end of these thirty days, we are to be man and wife. And you will finally be mine.”

Just to think of it now caused her discomfort. When she rolled off Jon’s chest she knew he could tell something was wrong. She just didn’t care.

“Dany please talk to me,” Jon begged of her. He rolled over and gently took her face in his hand and made her look at him. “Whatever it is I am here for you Dany. Forever and always.”

“Forever and always Jon?” He nodded and reaffirmed to her ‘Forever and always’. Then he kissed her as though to melt away all her worries with his love for her. When it ended she caressed his cheek with her fingers as she began to grow teary eyed.

“Aegon told me that after the celebrations come to an end that Rhaegar means for us to finally wed.”

She could see how much it pained Jon to hear her tell him this. It broke her heart to see him so saddened, by her no less. He retreated from her touch and looked down at her like she was a stranger. Rising to meet him she took his hands in her own, fearing the news to have hurt him worse than she thought.

“I don’t care what my brother says. I will not marry Aegon, I will not marry that self absorbed preening peacock.” She took his face in her hands and smiled, “I want you Jon. I want to be your wife. To spend the rest of my days with you, to bear your children, to grow old and gray with you by my side.”

She could see the battle within Jon raging. His love for her was without question, but his loyalty to his father was just as great. He often spoke of making his peace with Rhaegar’s decision, of trying to accept that they were not meant to be. This was more for her sake than it was his, for she had spent every chance she could trying to convince her brother not to go through with the betrothal.

A look of defeat crossed Jon’s face when he spoke next, “What can be done? My father has spoken, and the High King’s word is final.” She knew he was right. Rhaegar had been adamant in his decision, and no amount of reasoning or pleading had managed to convince him otherwise. It seemed like their fates were set in stone.

It was then that a wild idea entered her mind. An idea so mad she thought herself touched in the head for a moment. But at the prospect of being with Jon she happily embraced the madness.

“Marry me Jon.”

He looked at her like she had grown a second head. So she repeated it to him once again.

“Marry me before I am wed to Aegon.”

“Dany have you taken leave of your good senses” he asked? The shock on Jon’s face was a small price to pay for her mind was racing with the possibilities.

“If we are wed, officially before a priest with the proper witnesses, then by all the laws of the land we are man and wife. Then Rhaegar will have no choice but to accept it. For not even the High King can undo a marriage that has been fully consummated.”

She knew this was a dangerous road she was traveling down, but anything was worth it to be with her Jon. There wouldn’t be any price she wouldn’t pay, no place she would not go, no line she would not cross. To be with Jon forever meant everything to her. The rest of the world could burn around her for all she cared.

While she was now committed to her plot, Jon was still struggling to come to terms with what she was proposing. This wasn’t one of her childish schemes for raiding the kitchens for sweets, this is tantamount to treason. What she was asking of him was to betray his father, betray his brother, betray all the oaths of loyalty he swore to uphold. And the consequences for their actions could be more severe than either of them could possibly imagine. Despite all that, Daenerys was determined to make Jon see things her way.

“Please Jon just think about it for a moment. I know what I am asking is dangerous, an act of treason against the High King himself...but isn’t it worth it? Is it not worth the risk to be together, to be able to call one another husband and wife?” She stroked his cheek to calm his tense body, and have him look her in the eye. “Just think about it. You, me, our children...doesn’t that sound like everything we have ever wanted, all we have ever dreamed?”

It was, she knew it was all they wanted. That still didn’t keep Jon from doubting. So she did the only thing she could think of to stop him from doubting, she kissed him.

Once again, willing that all the love she held for him be conveyed to him in that moment she kissed him like she had never before. In such a way that he could feel all the love that she had for him, that no one else could ever know. When they broke away she saw the haze of doubt leave his mind. He drew her close again and kissed her with a renewed fervor.

At that moment nothing mattered anymore to either of them. Not honor, not duty, or family. Nothing at all mattered but the two of them.

_Let the world burn for all I care. So long as we are together there is nothing else that matters._

 

JON

 

Once His father’s solar had been a place of fond memories for a young Jon. A place where he and his mother would come to and father would play his harp for them. Whenever Jon needed wisdom he could always come to his father and seek guidance. When he and Aegon fought or argued they would be brought here before their father. As a child he’d run to his father’s solar to dazzle him with tales of discovery that he and the others had found while exploring the castle. Whenever he received praise from his instructors or a new gift from his uncle Aemon, Jon would always run here first to share in his good cheer with his father. So many memories contained in one room.

Now it was something else entirely.

Brought before the High King in chains Jon knelt there before his father, a look of true disappointment adorning his face. And they were not alone in the Solar.

Beside his father was his mother, her hands gripping her dress tightly, a look of fear present in her eyes. The High Commander of the imperial guard stood near the king and queen, a look of indifference plastered to his face. Years of service having trained him to show no emotion or betray anything he was feeling.Old prince Aemon was resting on a small sofa, a teary eyed and scared daenerys beside him. On either side of them stood an imperial guard, their hands upon the sword, their eyes ever watchful of the two royals. Then there was Aegon who sat to Jon’s right. His eyes were alive with hate for his brother. A hate that threatened to break free and have him do something rash were it not for his own imperial guard at his side. Viserys and Rhaenys looked uninterested save for the snide remarks they made, or the cruel grins they wore at Jon’s situation.

_A situation of my own making, but one I would happily do so again._

Finally Rhaegar broke the silence and addressed his son.

“How is it that we find ourselves here of all places? How is it that we find our family so torn and divided as we do now?”

Jon said nothing as he father looked at him.

“Jon...there are no words to describe the disappointment I feel in you right now.”

His grey eyes closed and he began to look down at his father’s feet, unable to look at his father’s disappointment in the eye. Years of his life he spent in service to his father, every action taken to make Rhaegar proud of him, to prove himself worthy to be a prince of the empire, and just within a fortnight it was all in ruins.

“Jonarys look at me.”

His father’s iron tone bid Jon to raise his gaze and look upon him. To see his father look at him with such disappointment in him pained Jon far more than the chains he was bound to. For a moment he felt himself so overcome with shame is threatened to engulf him.

“Do you understand why you are here like this? Do you understand what you have done?”

“Yes father,” Jon spoke with an even voice. “I know exactly what I had done.”

What he had done was conspire behind his father’s back, scheme with friends and loved ones and openly defied his father’s will. It all started that night at the lake, but evolved further in the following days. The first thing Jon and Daenerys needed was a priest to preside over the wedding. They found that in the robust and kind Father Malcolm, a jolly priest of the sect of Vhagar who had known Jon and Dany since they were babes. Thoros of Myr had offered his services as a red priest, but Daenerys was determined they be wed by the sect of their valyrian gods, so to all in the empire their marriage would be legal and true. When they came before him with their plans Father Malcolm had been unsure if he wished to take part. What they were asking was much, and the consequences could be dire. To defy the will of the High King, needless to say such a prospect would be worthy of deep consideration before deciding on. Taking some time to contemplate his decision, he eventually decided to aid the prince and princess in their wedding. Next they sought their closest friends to bear witness to their wedding. Daemon and his sister Daemona were among the attendants as were Aurrane, his older brother Daeron, his sister Lena, and Thoros of Myr. Sadly Jon had insisted that his mother be left unawares until they were already wed.

“Whatever happens I want my mother to have no hand in this. Let father’s fury fall on us, for this is our choice, not hers.”

So a near fortnight passed when they finally came together outside the city and met before an old altar used in the early days of the valyrian worships. Daenerys came before Jon as a vision in white, her gown made by the finest designers in all the empire for her wedding to Aegon. Now she wore it for Jon alone before the gods to pronounce their love for one another.

Once they had been declared man and wife they kissed before their friends and were soon away on the back of their dragons, flying off to the city of Lys. Then for the next seven days they stayed as guests of the magisters, taking in the wonder and beauty that Lys had to offer for them. They savored every moment together, out in the streets or in the bedroom together. They sampled the markets from all corners, tasting of the finest products that could be found only in their streets. Jon could still smell the scented perfumes that Daenerys had sprayed her hair with. They smelled heavenly to him, and made her even more divine than she already was. They wanted these moment to last forever to forget about all that awaited them once they returned home to Summerhall.

Sadly their bliss would be short lived. For once they had returned to Summerhall, Guards had been awaiting them and Jon had been placed under arrest. Clapped in irons like a common criminal they dragged him off, while Daenerys was escorted to her apartments where she remained under guard.

Which brought them all to here.

When Jon looked to Daenerys, he could see the regret on her face. She hadn’t wanted any of this to happen. She wanted them to live a happy life together, a simple wish that he could never fault her for. After all, it was the exact same thing that he wanted. So he smiled to reassure her it was going to be ok, even though he knew in his bones things were never going to be the same again. Whatever happened next, his fate was in the hands of the High King. His father called for him to look at him again, and Jon complied without a fuss.

“I told you Jon, I spoke to you many times over about this very matter. Each time you assured me you understood, that you were fine with what had to happen. It would appear you were less than honest with men on the matter.”

“Husband please,” Lyanna begged as she fell to her knees and took hold of Rhaegar’s hand. “Think this not as a betrayal, but as an act of willful love by them. There was no betrayal in their intent, only love that they both shared for each other.”

“Yes dear wife, there was no betrayal in their intent, but in the action itself. They have defied my will and there must be a reckoning for their actions.”

Lyanna’s hand left Rhaegars and clasped over her mouth, her attempts to hide her sadness only partly working.

It pained Jon to see his mother like that, but this is precisely why he chose to keep her ignorant of what he was doing. He didn’t want her tainted by his decision. Even if he knew that she would have willingly done so, she was his mother after all.

“Jonarys of the House Targaryen,” his father began. “Through your actions you have betrayed your king, your nation, and your family. Have you anything to say in your defense?”

“No father, I do not.”

His mother tightened her grip on her dress while Daenerys looked like she couldn’t take much more of this. His father nodded but before he could speak again Jon spoke first.

“I do not have anything to say because I do not apologize for my actions.” Everyone gasped at that. “I do not apologize because this is the first time in my life I have done what I have desired in place of what I needed to do. I have dedicated years of my life to the empire father, years of fighting and warring and sleepless nights. All of them spent in service so that our family’s legacy could flourish and thrive. But then you asked of me something I just could not do. You asked me to give up Daenerys, the woman I love more than my own life father. It was too much to ask...I...I couldn’t do it. Am I sorry we are here? Yes I am. Am I sorry for the trouble and pain I am causing you and mother? I most certainly am."

He paused to catch his breath. Then he looked over to Daenerys and smiled sadly.

“But I am not sorry for the choice I made. If given the choice, I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.”

It was too much for his poor mother. At that she stood and left the room, tears flowing from her eyes. Jon bowed his head in shame to think of all the pain he was causing her. Sadly he didn’t have time to dwell as his father spoke again.

“You directly went against a royal command from the High King. By the ancient laws set down by the High Kings of old, you know very well what punishment is called for.”

Sadly, Jon did.

_Execution_.

“NO!”

Jon turned as Daenerys flung herself at him and wrapped her arms tight around him, her sobs and tears escaping with no end. She turned to Rhaegar and pleaded with him.

“Please Rhaegar, please don’t do this! He’s your son! Your boy! You can’t execute him! You can’t!”

Though still chained Jon was able to reach and take hold of Daenerys, holding her as she continued to beg for his life. In truth he knew it could come to this. From the moment she first proposed her plan he knew that this is where they could end up. He knew the price he would have to pay if things went wrong. His only hope was that he took the brunt of the punishment, and Daenerys could escape without harm.

“Rhaegar please don’t do this. I know what we did was wrong, I know it was against your wishes...but you just would not listen!”

The High King listened intently now to Daenerys in stoney silence. “I love Jon brother, I love him. I have loved him since I was young, and I love him now as strongly as ever. Jon did this only because I encouraged him, because I begged of him. I begged him to wed me, that we become man and wife. He was so conflicted between his love for me, and his desire to obey you. I pushed him too far, and I am the reason we are here right now. If any life must be lost here today, then I beg you brother let it be mine.”

“No Dany, I won’t allow it!” Jon jerked in her grip so he could face her.

“This was all my doing, my scheme, and I will be the one punished for it.”

Jon couldn’t let that happen. He gazed with pleading eyes to Rhaegar, begging him to listen to him then.

“Please father please punish me but spare Daenerys. For all my years of loyalty, for all my years of serving the empire grant me this one boone my king. Spare Daenerys her life.”

“There will be no killings this day.”

Rhaegar’s blunt answer startled all who heard it. Both he and Daenerys could hardly believe what he had just said. Viserys and Rhaenys took to frowning, Aemon remained pensive and neutral, while Aegon looked red with rage. Before he could speak, Rhaegar raised a hand to stop him from speaking.

“The laws are clear on what we should do, but it is for the High King to make the final decision.” He looked to all the family in the room. “We Targaryens are no strangers to spilling the blood of our own. For reasons great and small we have killed our own in the past, a shameful truth I am grieved to admit. But as long as I am the High King no member of this family shall shed the blood of their kin. Justifiable or not. For that reason I will spare the accused. Both of them.”

A sense of relief began to full him until his father continued.

“Instead they shall spend the rest of their days exiled to the farthest edges of the empire. Never to return to these lands on pain of death.”

Jon felt that relief inside turn to stone and drop itself into the depths of his stomach. And this wasn’t the end of it, things only went from bad to worse.

“In addition, those who gave succor to your cause will share in your fate. They will be banished along with you to the Islands of Driftmark and Dragonstone, ancestral homes to Houses Targaryen and Velaryon in the west. There you will live out the rest of your days without the support or care of the crown. This is to be your punishment for defying the will of the throne."

A sense of guilt the likes of which Jon had never before felt overwhelmed him at the thought that their friends would be forced from their homes for helping Jon and Dany in their schemes. Though he made to argue for them his father wouldn’t hear it. He dismissed them and ordered he and Daenerys be confined to Jon’s chambers until preparations for their departure could be arranged.

As he and Daenerys were being led away the distant cries of Vhagar and Balerion could be heard. A mourning cry for the fate that had befallen their riders.

As they were brought to his rooms Jon could only think of what would happen to them next. Would they be ok? And most importantly how was he going to care for Daenerys.

_I made my choice. I stand by it. And Vhagar willing, I will see us through whatever comes next._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News for the King in the North, Jon and Daenerys make Dragonstone their home, and a view of Winterfell from a new set of eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back bitches! Thanks to everyone who reviewed and expressed such interest in this story. Sorry for the delay, but life has its priorities, and writing is just my hobby on the side. Anyways I hope you enjoy the new chapter, and look forward to hearing back from you all!

II

**NED**

 

Dark wings dark words, an old saying that every man and woman in Westeros hear at least once in their lives. When he was a boy, his father used to tell him that news on the wings of a raven never brought with it glad tidings, only ill ones. For most of Ned’s life that held to be true. When word reached him at the Eyrie of his mother’s passing it came on the wings of a raven. When his brother Brandon was slain, and his sister Lyanna had been kidnapped while traveling through the Riverlands, that too came on dark wings. As did his summons to Winterfell after his father’s passing, and his marriage to Cat. Even the day he learned of his sister being alive and well, and now the High Queen of the Targaryen Empire. All of it brought to him on the back of dark wings.

So when he awoke before daybreak to find the Maester awaiting with a message for him, he was already expecting  the worst. Instead, to his surprise, he found the message sent from his dear sister Lyanna; informing him of rather important news.

“Your Grace, is something amiss?” Kind Maester Luwin had asked him? Ned shook his head no as he rolled up the scroll.

“Nothing you need concern yourself with yet Maester Luwin.”

The aged Maester nodded in understanding before asking, “Is there anything else you may need your grace?”

“Not at the moment,” Ned replied. “I need to speak with my wife.”

“But your grace it is still before daybreak. Should you not allow the queen to rest a little longer?”

“Yes I would rather, but this is something we must discuss right away.”

With scroll in hand Ned bid the maester goodbye before making his way to his queen’s rooms. The sun had yet to show itself, and the castle still slumbered quietly. Even his children still slept softly in their beds, though to call them children was not quite correct. Robb was a man grown and battle tested, a son and heir any father would be proud to call their own. Even now he proved his worth as his heir up at Last Hearth, where alongside the Umbers and many other of their bannermen, they fought to put down a host of wildlings that had made their way south of the Wall. Truly there was no greater sense of pride for Ned than his son. Every day he only made him prouder and prouder with each achievement, as did his other two boys, Bran and Rickon. Both of them were treasures to him as much as their older brother. Bran was the jewel of his mother’s eye, the child she held closest to her heart, despite her protests to the contrary. Rickon on the other hand was a wild and wilful young man, the blood of the wolves ran strongly through his veins. Never one to settle and be calm, his youngest was always seeking some form of excitement wherever he could find it.

Then of course there was his two daughters, his jewels of the north. His eldest Sansa had inherited all the beauty and grace of her mother. At feast or ball Not a head wouldn’t be turned her way when she would enter the room. Sansa was without a doubt the most beautiful, and sought after maid in the entirety of his kingdom.

But if Ned was being honest with himself, like his wife, there was one whom he held closest to his heart. His youngest daughter Arya. Whereas her siblings inherited their auburn hair and tully eyes from their mother, his youngest daughter had all the natural wild beauty of the Starks. Just like her Aunt Lyanna. She was as wild and untamed as a wild horse, quick to playing with sticks in the mud than she would dolls in her rooms. With such a stubborn and hard headed daughter, he could not imagine any normal man taking his Arya to wife. Such a sutor would have to be a special sort to be worthy of his Arya.

_Yet soon I must begin seeking proper betrothals for the rest of my children. I have put this off long enough. I must find suitable matches for them as I did Sansa._

_Lord Royce still awaits my answer to his proposal, and then there are the rest of my lords and their offers._

At least he had no need to worry about Sansa.

As it was, while the others were yet to be wed, his dear Sansa was already a woman married. It truly had been one of the hardest things he had ever done, giving his daughter away to another man, even one as good as her husband.

The match had been the work of his queen, who thought it wise to seek more southern allies against their growing list of enemies. The Lannisters and the Durradons had been in the midst of a cold war with the North for years now, launching raids and begetting skirmishes in the Riverlands to lure them into open war. The Ironborn, always looking to reave and rape wherever their ships could land. Even the Vale offered possible troubles with the matter of succession between Jon Arryn’s two heirs. So, in order to better prepare for the coming dangers, Cat had reached out to the Gardners and proposed a match between their Sansa and the eldest son of King Mance, Prince Willas.

Once already Ned had refused an offer from another southern kingdom, a kingdom ruled by a man he once loved as close as a brother. Robert had proposed the match to him when he and his court paid visit to Winterfell many years ago. When he first laid eyes upon Joffrey Durrandon, he saw him to be all his mother’s son, no trace of Robert to be found in the boy. Surely he looked comely and acted charming enough, but there was something that did not sit well with Ned about the boy. So in the end he managed to convince Robert to hold off on such a proposal for a little while longer, before he would make a final decision. Sadly, his friend would die half a year later in a boar hunting accident, and Joffrey would ascend to his father’s throne. That was when his true nature was revealed. Ned had thanked the gods that he hadn’t taken Robert up on the betrothal. To think that his Sansa could have been given to that, that monster, it made him feel unsettled to say the least.

Fortunately for Ned, Willas had proven to be everything Joffrey was not.

When he first gazed upon Prince Willas, he honestly was not sure what to think about him. He had the bearings and presence of a king, but was shown to have been crippled in one leg, forced to rely on a walking stick to move around. This had been a concern for Ned back at the beginning. He had asked himself how could this man keep safe Sansa when he was barely able to walk by himself? It shamed him to think that he almost called the whole thing off. Thankfully all those doubts and worries were laid to rest once he had gotten to know Willas better.

Never in his life had he been glad to have been wrong about someone. While not a warrior, Willas’ mind was the sharpest that Ned had ever seen, a born tactician with a gifted mind for strategy. Ned would pity any fool who would challenge the Reach once Willas was king. Nor was the prince’s charms lost upon his daughter. During the moon's turn that Prince Willas and his entourage had been in Winterfell, Sansa had fallen truly in love with the Gardner prince, so taken by his intellect and his kindness. So Ned was pleased when Sansa agreed to the match, and more than proud to be able to walk his daughter before the sept and see her become a woman wed. No longer was she his winter princess, now she was to one day be a Queen of summer.

That had been well over a year ago now, and while word from the Reach was not very often, the letters she sent them were filled with entries of her time in the south; and of the joy her husband brought her. It helped Ned greatly to hear Sansa speaking so well of her time with the Gardners, especially now of all times.

As Ned crossed the hallways of the castle he came to rest before his wife’s rooms. He gently opened the door and peered in to find his queen still abed asleep.

Quietly he closed the door behind him, and allowed for himself a moment to take in the beauty of Catelyn Tully.

Gods be good, how could it be that a man such as him came to have such a woman as his queen? She was too good for him, Ned always knew, but he knew he could never think to part from her. Ever since the day they met he was helplessly under her spell.

The rooms his queen slept in were by far the warmest in all of Winterfell. Even now as he watched her sleep he felt his blood begin to race at the hint of flesh shown and her waterfall of auburn hair that was splashed out over the pillows. To gaze upon her so was to remember back to when he and his queen had first met, on the very day they were to be wed.

More than twenty years had passed since then, but he could remember it all. He and Robert had been training with each other in the yard when a servant had arrived, bidding them to come with him. When they arrived in Jon’s solar, Ned could feel a tension in the air like he had never known before.

“Ned, Robert, I have something to talk to you both about.”

“What is it Lord Arryn,” Ned asked?

“Has something happened,” Robert inquired?

“Yes boys,” Jon told them with a heavy heart. “Ned, it’s about your brother Brandon...he…”

“What...what about Brandon Jon?” Ned was beginning to get anxious as Jon Arryn attempted to speak further.

Then finally Lord Arryn reached out and handed over a scroll to his young ward. When Ned finished reading the contents of the scroll he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Say this is not so Jon. Please say this is not true.”

“Ned what is it?” Robert came closer and place a brotherly hand upon his shoulder.

“My brother Robert...he’s dead.”

A mix of shock and surprise came over Robert while Ned continued reading the scroll’s contents.

“That’s not the worst. My sister has gone missing.”

“WHAT!?”

Robert snatched the piece of paper from his friend’s hands and read over it, Ned still standing there as he tried to come to terms with what he had just read.

_My brother killed, my sister, only the gods know where she is. How could all this have happened?_

Once he had finished reading it, Robert crumpled the message in his powerful hand before tossing it near the fire.

“Seven damn these cretins! If they think they can abduct my betrothed and face no consequence, they have another thing coming to them! Preferably my hammer!” Robert shook Ned’s some to snap him out of his trance.

“Let’s go Ned, we need to get our horses ready, find the men who killed your brother, and stole away Lyanna!”

“No Robert you cannot. Neither of you can leave just yet.”

Jon Arryn’s word’s left the young men confused, so the old lord continued.

“There was another Raven that came after the first. This time from Winterfell.” A knot began to tighten in Ned’s stomach, and it only grew tighter when Jon Arryn looked right into his eyes and said. “I am sorry Ned, but your father has passed as well.”

It was too much, all too much to take in. First his brother and his sister, now his father. What else will the gods see fit to take from him.

“With the passing of both your father and your brother, you are now the eldest male stark alive. You are to be the next King of the North.”

Robert had to help Ned keep him balance, the shock of all this far too much for him. Ned had been helped to a chair while Jon Arryn called for something strong for Ned to drink. After a few minutes wait, a serving girl appeared with a bottle of wine, and served each a cup before spiriting away. Two cups of wine later, Ned’s voice finally returned to him.

“Is...is there any more news for me? Am I to learn that Benjen is lost too?”

“No Ned, your brother is safe and sound back home in Winterfell.” At least there was that Ned thought to himself. But the look on Jon’s face set his eyes to narrowing.

“What else do you wish to tell me Jon,” Ned asked the lord of the vale?

“Ned,” Jon began, “As you know, with your father and brother’s passing you shall inherit your father’s throne, and wear his crown. But there is something else you have inherited my boy, a betrothed.”

At this Ned looked at Jon Arryn like he had grown a second head.

“Be reasonable Jon, a betrothed?”

“Yes Ned, a betrothed. Your brother’s betrothed to be more precise. Your brother was to marry the Lady Catelyn of House Tully. With Brandon now dead there were some concerns about the future of the riverlands and the north. So when news reached Lord Hoster first, he wrote to Winterfell informing them of all that had transpired, and of his desires to keep the betrothal together...by wedding you to Lady Catelyn.”

While Jon Arryn was laying this all out before Ned, Robert had about finished all the wine by himself, helping none to settle his fury.

“That’s all well and good Jon, but what does all this have to do with me and Ned being unable to go after and find the men who kidnapped Lyanna!?”

“It had everything to do with it Robert,” Jon spoke in his lord’s voice! “Ser Rodrik and some of the north’s finest ride for the riverlands, even as we speak. Together with Lord Hoster’s brother they will track down the men who took Lyanna. Ned meanwhile must go to Riverrun and cement the betrothal to the Tullys and wed their daughter.”

If Robert was becoming even more angered, then Ned was feeling more disbelief than before.

“Jon, I know nothing of her. She knows nothing of me. Still it is to be expected that I am to wed my brother’s betrothed? What of her? Does she know what is expected of her?”

“The Tully words are ‘Family Duty & Honor’ Ned, she knows very well what is expected of her.” The old lord came closer to Eddard and placed his hands on both his shoulders in a warm, fatherly gesture.

“I know this is so much to take in Ned, but you are a Stark of Winterfell. It may not have been yours by intent, but the kingdom of the North is now yours son. As are the duties and responsibilities you now inherit. Believe me when I say that I wish I could do something about all this, that this burden would not pass to you, but I know also that if any man were capable of handling such burdens it would be you.”

Jon spoke to Ned in his lord’s voice then.

“This cup has passed to you Eddard Stark, and in the name of those that came before you must take it. You must become the King in the North.”

There was nothing else left to say after that. The next morning Ned and Robert were saddled and ready, and on their way to Riverrun. Once they and their escorts had finally arrived, Ned was immediately brought before Lord Hoster Tully. The lord of Riverrun welcomed him and opened his home to Ned, as his ancestors before him.

After that there was nothing left to say. A few days later, both Ned and Robert were being escorted from the Vale of Arryn to the seat of House Tully, Riverrun. Once there, Ned would be wed to Lord Hoster’s daughter, as his ancestor did long ago.

The bond between the Riverlands and the North was one that went back almost three hundred years now. Back in those days it was the Ironborn who reigned over the Riverlands. Under the leadership of the Hoare kings, their kingdom spread from their homes on the iron islands, all the way to the god’s eye. For years the people of the Riverlands were subjected to an unbearable regime under the Ironborns’ dominion. They stole what they wished, raped and sowed women with their seed when they wished, and killed any who opposed them.

But the worst came when King Harren ordered the great castle of Harrenhal to be built, a task that would last forty years, and thousands of captives from the other realms to complete. Countless numbers of men died in the quarries chained to sledges or laboring on the five huge towers. Men froze by winter and sweltered in summer. Weirwoods that had stood three thousand years were cut down to provide rafters and beams. Harren beggared the riverlands and the Iron Islands alike to ornament his dream.

Things would finally reach their breaking point when King Harren the Black took the youngest of Lord Edmyn Tully’s daughters, and forced her to serve as a bed slave for him.

Unable to stand this final insult, Edmyn Tully sought out aid from King Torrhen Stark of Winterfell, beseeching the King to raise his banners and liberate their lands from the Iron Scum. After many correspondences between the two, King Torrhen finally agreed, on the condition that the Lord Tully would bend the knee to him, and guarantee the submission of the Riverlands to him and the Kingdom of the North. The pact was sealed, and within the turn of the moon, the armies of the North were raised, and on the march through the Neck, and into the Riverlands.

The conflict would later be called the War for the Rivers, a bloody conflict that ended before the gates of Harren’s mighty fortress, Harrenhal, in a battle that would later be referred to as the ‘Fishfeed’. It was here that Harren’s army made their final stand, and were slaughtered along the shores of the God’s Eye. Harren and his sons retreated with what men they had left, and shut themselves up in their mighty fortress. Unknown to them, the daughter of Lord Tully he had taken, and other servants forced to serve the Hoares, worked quietly to unlock other parts of the great castle that Harren’s men were unable to guard. And so it was that thousands of North and Rivermen, with sword and torch in hand, slew the remains of Harren’s once mighty army, and brought an end to the king and his family once and for all. What Ironborn that remained in the riverlands quickly fled back to their islands, never again would they hold such power on land. With the death of the Hoares, so too died the dreams and ambitions of their people.

And so from then on, what was once the dominion of the Ironborn would now become part of the kingdom of the north, and with them the long and lasting friendship of their new vassals, the Tullys.

With such a history between their two houses, it did not surprise Ned at all when Lord Hoster welcomed him heartedly, and was quick to inform him that preparations for the wedding would be complete by this evening.

“It might be a little hurried, but I assure you my prince that the best from the Riverlands will be in attendance. This wedding will be worthy of the next King in the North, I swear to it.

Maybe it was just Ned, but he had thought it queer at how excited Lord Tully was. Ned was a stranger to them after all, and yet here he was handing over his daughter to him with a smile.

“My lord honors me truly, but I do not wish to force the Lady Catelyn into an unwanted marriage. It was Brandon she loved, not Eddard. I think it to be a bit cruel to have her wed to a complete stranger, especially so soon after her betrothed died. Perhaps after a proper time of grieving then we could revisit the matter of the betrothal?”

“Your words are kind and considerate for my daughter Your Grace, but we Tully’s pride ourselves on our words. Catelyn knows her duty to her family must come first, and so she is well prepared to do what she must. It is the Tully way.”

Ned hadn’t cared for how Lord Hoster worded it, nor of his calling him ‘grace’. He was not King of the North yet, not until he returned to claim his father’s crown back in Winterfell. But he knew the man meant no harm, he was only looking out for the interests of his family, something Ned could not fault him for. So after he and Lord Hoster had finished speaking with one another, he was once again escorted through the Tully home to a guest chamber, one large enough to accommodate a king certainly; and was prepared as his wedding drew closer.

As much as he would have preferred his marriage been done before the old gods, Ned was content to go along with what Lost Hoster had arranged already.When he was brought before the sept, Ned could not remember being more nervous than he was at that moment. In the span of a moon’s turn he had lost most of his family, gained a crown, and now was set to marry a woman he had never even met. Then as one, the guests all rose as the bride and her father made their way down the aisle. That was the first time Eddard Stark ever saw Catelyn Tully. When his eyes gazed upon Catelyn he could hardly summon the words to describe her. A vision, a vision sent by the old gods and the new. Never in his life had he ever gazed upon such a beauty, nor would he ever again.

When his bride came to join him before the septon, she would not look him in the eye. Not that he blamed her. After all she was suppose to be for Brandon, and he was just...just Ned.

A few words spoken, vows exchanged, his cloak replacing her Tully cloak, a kiss, and man and wife they were. Claps and cheers could be heard throughout the sept, and continued into the grand hall where the feasting began in earnest. He and his new bride sat at the head of the lord’s table, Robert to his right, and Lost Hoster to Catelyn’s left. It was quite the bounty that the Tullys had provided for their guests, Ned watched as Robert excused himself to drink against Lord Mallister in a wine cup war. The minstrel was playing an upbeat tone as men and women took to the floor to dance.

When Ned noticed his bride’s cup was empty he reached over and offered to fill it for her. A blush came to her as she thanked him, the first real words spoken between the two of them. So he dared to try his luck and asked her for a dance. She did not refuse him, and was led onto the floor to dance to a rendition of “The Seasons of My Love” with the others.

As they swayed to the melody, Ned was able to get his best look at his bride yet. She was a Tully through and through, same tully hair and eyes as her father and the rest of her family. When he looked at her he could not help but think how beautiful she would look in a crown of winter roses. Perhaps when they returned to Winterfell he would have one made for her like Lya…

The solemness returned then at the memory of his sister. From the time that he had first heard the news till now, men had been searching for any trace of Lyanna and her abductors. Despite their best work not a hair could be found, as though they had just disappeared into thin air.

His bride took note of his change in expression, and spoke to him softly.

“Is my husband dissatisfied with the dancing? Would you rather we return to the lord's table?”

“My lady,” He asked in confusion? Only for what she said to register with him a moment later. “No my lady I am quite pleased with the dancing, with you I mean, dancing with you is quite pleasing. What I mean is…”

Ned stopped his ranting when he saw Cateyln began to giggle at his attempts to explain himself. Strange as it was to say, this was the happiest he’d seen his bride all night.

“It also pleases me to hear my wife laugh so. You sound so happy, so alive when you do.”

Catelyn blushed something fierce when he told her this. She could only meekly look up to him and smile. But then she too acted bold, and gently kissed his cheek. May that it felt strange to do so to a stranger, even one who was her husband, yet stranger still was the feeling of how right it was. Her husband’s strong northern hand reached up and touched the cheek her lips fell upon, and a reddening took over his face. Before he could reply to her gesture the music took a turn towards a familiar tune. Other took note as well as a cheer rose up, and men and women began to swarm the newlyweds.

“THE BEDDING!!”

“THE BEDDING!!”

“READY THEM FOR THE BEDDING!!”

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

The hour had grown late, all sense of time lost amidst the celebrations of the feast. Now came the time when the newly wed man and his wife would be made ready to consummate their marriage. As they were brought down from their table, the men began to undress Lady Catelyn as the women did for Eddard. Soon both were as naked as the day they came into this world. As they were escorted through the halls to the bridal chamber, their guests made jab and gib to the young king and his new queen.

“A proper northern man awaits you my lady. Be sure to not be frightened when you see it!”

“What a beauty she is Ned. Show her how the direwolf takes his pleasure!”

“Your lady awaits your royal cock your grace.”

“Bed her well my king, bed her well!”

“They say you Starks are as cold as ice. Well once my lady lays hands on you you’ll melt into a puddle in her hands!”

Ned felt himself reddening again at such crude and coarse japs made by the guests. When he dared to look at Catelyn he saw he eyes fixated firmly at the floor before her, her cheeks as red as his own. He had wanted to reassure her, to let her know she was ok. So he did the first thing that popped into his head, and gently slipped her small hand into his larger one. A small gesture of comfort to help her the rest of the way to the chambers that had been laid out for them.

Finally they arrived at their destination, and the two were left alone as the guests returned to the great hall for more celebrating.

So there they stood, hearts racing, hand shaking, body reddening, naked for both to see. His hand still held to her own, and he could feel a slight tremble from her.

She was frightened.

Oh him or of what was to come next he could not say. Only feel a sense of shame when he lingered over her beautiful form, and his blood began to rush to his manhood.

When Catelyn saw this she stared at him for a moment and then turned away abash. He made to apologize to her.

“Forgive me my lady, There are some things not even a prince can control.”

She turned to him and made to speak, but he spoke first.

“Whatever the guests may have said, know I won’t do anything to you without your consent. I’d not do anything that would make you uncomfortable my lady.”

She listened to him and then smiled. She reached out with her hand and cupped his cheek.

“No, please forgive me.” When he looked confused she spoke again, “Your Grace’s kindness and sincerity are a wonder to behold. I confess I was frightened of all this. Of wedding a man that was not my Brandon, of laying with a man I did not love, or bearing him children I had not thought to have.”

He had felt a twinge of sadness to hear her say so. She could see it in his expression so she let go of his hand and cupped his other cheek, forcing him to look her in the eye.

“I see now my fears and worries were wasted, for I have married an entirely different sort of man all together. A better sort than I could have hoped for.”

He remembered looking at her with surprise while she smiled gently to him.

“Though it will take time, I feel that we shall come to know one another well, to care for one another. Mayhaps even love one day.”

“Such would please me greatly my lady.”

“Catelyn, if it please your grace.” And please him it did. Everything about her pleased him. From her Tully blue eyes and red hair to the lightness of her skin. To his eye she was the most perfect woman he had ever laid eye upon.

Breaking from the stillness, Catelyn gently pulled him down to her and kissed him with all the emotion she could muster. His body reacted quickly and she came to feel the tip of his manhood poking at her thigh. When she broke from the kiss she took his one hand in hers and led them to the bed. Climbing on top she did her utmost to appear desirable to him, beckoning him with her siren voice.

“Come my king, come and get to know your wife better.”

All through the night and late into the morning they spent getting to know each and every last inch of the other. Never before had he felt such a strong and variety of emotions for anything as he had for Cat that night. Beautiful and graceful, he felt like he was making love to a goddess, for nothing less could describe the beauty of his wife.

After a few more days at Riverrun, and once no further word about his sister had been heard, both Ned and Catelyn began their journey home to Winterfell. Along their trip they spent much time getting to know one another better, Ned speaking of his family’s home and of the history of the Starks while Catelyn revealed more of herself to her husband. As they grew closer to the North, he had spoken most honestly with her about her life in the North, of how different it would be compared to the Riverlands.

“The North asks much from it’s men, and even more from it’s women. Your life going forward will not be without struggle my lady. But I believe that you will be able to handle your new place here in the North. After all...you’re a Stark of Winterfell now, a Queen in the North.”

Once they had arrived in Winterfell preparations were quickly made for a proper coronation for Ned. Ravens flew to every corner of their kingdom, to ever lord of note and worth to be summoned to attend the ceremony. Within less than a fortnight the great houses and lords of the North had arrived to witness the crowning of both their new king and his queen.

As he knelt before the assembled lords and ladies, he remembered the cool feel of his father’s crown being placed upon his brow. Then a hollar roared out across the assembly.

“LONG LIVE KING EDDARD, LONG LIVE THE KING IN THE NORTH!!”

“THE KING IN THE NORTH!!”

“THE KING IN THE NORTH!!”

“THE KING IN THE NORTH!!”

It was shortly after this that Catelyn had informed him that she was carrying their babe. Then within the year his first born son and heir came into the world, Prince Robb of House Stark.

Now, even after more than twenty years of marriage and four more children, Catelyn still was the most beautiful thing Ned had ever laid his eyes upon.

Careful not to wake her, Ned came to the side of his queen’s bed and leaned down to steal a quick kiss from those perfect lips. Which surprised him when they began to kiss him back. His wife’s eyes fluttered open and she welcomed the sight of her husband with a smile.

“What might my husband be doing in my chambers so soon before dawn? Does he have need of me for anything, or maybe he is of a mind to ravish me while I slumber unawares?”

Her smile became a tease as she slowly pulled the furs higher up her body, concealing the once exposed flesh from Ned’s eyes. She was playing with him, and if she wasn’t careful he just might prove her right and ravish her till he was sated.

“My queen should take care, for it has been said to be unwise to provoke a direwolf, even in jest.”

Her smile grew even wickeder. “Provoke? I do no such thing my lord. I simply behave as any lady would when a wild beast finds it’s way into her chambers, with her in a state of undress no less. I’d not stir any wild instincts in such an animal, less I be left helpless and at its merc-”

She was cut off when Ned’s lips claimed hers, a wild passion felt upon contact. He kissed her with all the pent up passion she had stirred in him, flinging the furs of of her to behold the glory of what lay underneath. As they kissed with fevered passion he brought up one hand to caress a breast, his hand kneading and playing with it. The tip of his finger flickering with the tip of her breast until it became as erect as he himself felt. Her hands came and untied his robe, letting it fall to the ground as he climbed up on top of her. He broke away from her lips and began to kiss his way down. Kissing at the pulse of her neck and down between the valley of her breasts. As his hand continued to play with one breast his mouth latched onto the other, sucking and biting at her erect nipple, causing moan after moan to pass from her lips.

“Oh gods Ned, please no more teasing. I need you now, I feel like I am about to come undone.”

He stopped his playing with her breast and grinned at her pleading.

“Then my lady should have known better than to tease a wild beast. For they are known to taking their revenge as slowly as they can.”

A whimper escaped her lips when suddenly she took to gasping in surprise. The sudden sensation of his fingers entering her without warning stole the breath from her, and filled her with more pleasure than she could handle. As he continued to stroke her from within, she began to squirm and shake, powerless to do anything else as he held her arms above her head with one hand as the other continued pleasuring her.

As he continued Ned raised his head up to hers and from above her opened his lips and let his tongue hang slightly over her, an invitation for Cat. She did not disappoint and parted her lips to show her tongue awaiting his. He lowered himself down and claimed her lips with his, his tongue and hers swirling about together in a battle for dominance between the two.

Ned felt like he was about to come undone. All the pleasure he was accumulating was driving him mad. His body was beginning to burn, her scent filled his head, he could only take a little bit more before he could hold back no more. So deciding to have one last bit of foreplay, Ned broke off their kiss, to Cat’s disappointment, and lowered his head lower down her body. When he came to rest between her legs she knew what was about to happen, but was powerless to stop it...not that she wanted to. When he tongue flickered out to take her wet folds she almost came to release then and there. Only sheer force of will had kep her from coming undone right then and there.

“Gods Ned, more, please more- OH!”

Another quick taste of her and Cat was forced to bite down on her lips, hard enough to draw blood out. After a few more lapses with his tongue, Ned removed himself from between his wife’s legs and captured her lips once again.

“You set my blood aflame Cat,” Ned gasped out between kisses.

“I see that my love,” she answered as her hand caressed the bulge beneath his pants.

Ned made quick work of his pants and set free his throbbing manhood, letting it rest in the palm of Catelyn’s hand. A wicked grin came over her as her hands began long and strong stroked along his length, Ned looking to be fighting the pleasure he was receiving. With her hands, with her lips, it didn’t matter how she did it because once his manhood was in her grasp Ned would always lose all control over himself.

So when Cat ceased her stroking he looked at her in both confusion and mild irritation. She only smiled at Ned and brought him in closer to her.

“Within me. I want to feel you within me my love. Show me once more how much you love me.”

There was no holding back any longer. He quickly found the entrance to her womanhood and sheathed himself inside in one fell thrust. The suddenness caught her off guard and Cat let out a loud moan. More followed as Ned began thrusting himself inside of her again and again.

He flipped them both over so she straddled him on top, her long legs raising her up as she continued to take in his manhood over and over again. His hands glided over her perfect body and came to cup at her breasts. He kneaded them and cupped them, teasing and pinching her nipples till she was moaning even louder. Finally he let go as his left hand came to rest on her side while the other rose to caress her cheek. Her response was to lean in closer and suck on one of his digits.

Once again he flipped her back onto her back and began thrusting at an alarmingly fast pace. He knew his release was coming and so too did his wife. He leaned in closer and buried his face in her beautiful hair while her legs locked together behind him, her hands and nails clutching at his back as her continued speeding up.

“Oh gods Cat!”

“Ned!”

Then with one final thrust he released his seed inside her, setting them both to shaking in the pure pleasure that they were both sharing in.

After a moment or two of just laying there on top of his wife, Ned managed to pull himself off of her and lay beside her. The flush expression of his lady wife filled Ned with a sense of satisfaction, and maybe a little pride.

“By the gods Ned, had I known my lord was so...pent up, I would have saved him a trip and come to visit him in his own chambers.”

“There was no need my love, I was already coming to see you for another reason. Besides...your chambers are by far the warmest in the castle.”

“Made warmer yet by your touch and caress my lord husband.”

Ned chuckled deeply as Cat pressed herself against him, her hand caressing his chest in slow comfort. This was not what Ned had planned when he came to speak with his wife, but honestly any man would be powerless before such beauty, even one made like he was.

“You said there was a matter you wished to discuss with me my love?”

Cat’s question reminded him of why he came here in the first place.

“A raven arrived before first light. I needed to seek your counsel on what is pertains to.”

All trace of play was wiped from Cat’s features, now she was fully alert and awake listening intently to her husband’s words. She quickly exited the bed and threw on a robe as she listened to Ned.

Ned leaned over and grabbed his pants, fishing for the small scroll he had tucked away in his pockets. After retrieving it, he handed it over to Catelyn, who began scanning its contents.

“It’s from my sister, Lyanna.”

Cat tore her eyes away from the scroll and stared in shock at what Ned had told her. His sister was not a name that was brought up lightly within the halls of Winterfell.

A year after he and Cat had been married a raven had arrived for him. The handwriting surprised him so much that he nearly tore the parchment in two. He’d recognized it as his sister’s penning, and it told him an unbelievable story. After Brandon had been murdered Lyanna had been abducted by the assailants and put on a boat heading east. There she had been sold to a pillow house for a substantial price. Her virginity made her a prime piece of merchandise, not to mention she was a foreign beauty, so her buyer planned to auction off during a gathering of like-minded individuals in Lys at his manse. It was at such a gathering that she caught the eye of the Crown Prince of the empire, Rhaegar Targaryen. When the time came to auction her off Rhaegar opened and closed for her with a single bid. She wrote that he offered so much for her that the auctioneer practically threw her at him. Shortly after he had brought her to his manse in Lys, where she was given a proper meal, clothes, and looked after for any injuries she sustained while captive. He explained to her that he purchased her so that he could help prevent her being sold off to any of the other, so-called, noblemen of the city. After she had been properly treated, Rhaegar had offered to arrange passage back to Westeros once his tour of the city was over, and in the meantime offered her to join him for what time he had left. Over the next few weeks Rhaegar and Lyanna explored every nook and cranny of Lys together, taking in the beauty of the imperial city, and all the wonders to be found within. At the end of their third week together Lyanna confessed she did not want to return home to Westeros. She had fallen in love with the Dragon Prince, and he in turn had fallen in love with her. And so a princess of winter chose to become the bride of an imperial prince, and eventually rise to become his High Queen when he ascended the throne of his father.

Her letter ended with an apology for all the worry she had put Ned and Benjen through, and begged him not to share her fate with anyone else, especially Robert. She knew there would be no way to explain her actions to a man like him. Not about Rhaegar, her decision to stay, nor the beautiful baby boy that she had given birth to.

So for twenty odd years, long after his dear friend Robert had died in a boar hunting accident, Ned had refused to share the knowledge about his sister, save for his brother Benjen, and his wife Catelyn.

And just like the first time, the news this letter from his sister brought was beyond surprising.

“Lyanna’s son has been exiled from the empire. He and a select group of others have been banished to live at the imperial outpost of Dragonstone.” Ned watched as his wife read through the scrolls contents with her own eyes, passing it off to him once she was done.

“She asks that we welcome her son and his new bride. To let them know that they are not without friends on this side of the Narrow Sea.”

He watched as a series of emotions flashed across Catelyn’s face, accompanied by as many thoughts as well. Targaryens here, in Westeros. Not in his nor his father's lifetime had such an event as important as this occurred in the seven kingdoms. Stories were spread from the edge of the North to the sandy coasts of Dorne with tales of the Empire, and the dragons that forged it. Ned’s own sons, when they were boys, would play with one another acting out the exploits of many High Kings of old. Sadly, the exploits of their own forefathers seemed small in the face of the Dragon lords and their mighty beasts.

Catelyn took Ned’s rough northern hands into her own soft ones and looked him in the eye.

“Think Ned,” She said, “a prince of the empire in these very halls. The son of your sister and the High King himself, sharing our hearth and home. What an incredible opportunity this will be for us!”

She let go of his hands and began to pace the room in deep thought.

“I’ll have Maester Luwin prepare a proper invitation for the prince and his bride. Then I will speak with Poole about the state of our stores, if we are short I will arrange for more to be sent for from Wintertown. Then we must write to Robb up at Last Hearth, to inform him of his cousin’s arrival. The tailor will have new clothes made for Bran, Arya, and Rickon for the occasion, and we must also inform our lor-”

She was cut off when Ned took her back into his arms and kissed her. The warmth of his lips elicited a powerful response from his wife. When they broke from the other they both were short of breath, a smile gracing Ned’s face.

“There will be time for all of that my love. Everything will be taken care of in good time. For now though we should rest and think on this matter. It is, after all, still before break of day.”

He gently guided her back to her bed, and back into his arms.

“The sun will not rise for near another hour, and neither shall this king or his queen.”

Catelyn smiled as she laid there in his powerful arms, content to rest a while longer with her lord husband. Ned, on the other hand, felt no such peace. For his mind raced with thoughts of the imminent arrival of Jon and his entourage to Westeros.

He still found it hard to grasp, truly, for when he thought of Jon all he could imagine was a swaddling babe that his sister wrote of. A babe that was all stark from head to toe, just like his mother, but born with his father’s temperament. Over the years Ned had tried to picture what type of man Jon was growing into, the letters Lyanna sent helped paint a picture, but he had longed to see the man his nephew was. Just as he had longed for the reunification of his family, to see Lyanna back home in these halls as when they were children...that truly would be a blessing.

Now it was her son that he would be hosting in Winterfell, him and his bride, and all those he brought from the empire. And Ned knew that once they arrived, things would never be the same again. Neither for the North, or the rest of Westeros itself.

Word will spread of the arrival of the Dragon Lords, and the gods alone knew what such news would affect the other kingdoms.

As he lay there with Cat in his arms, a thought popped into his head he had not thought to consider, or rather he did not want to consider. What would his own lords think about Jon and his company’s presence here in Westeros? For years now their kingdom had seen a sense of tranquility and peace, all thanks to the delicate power balance the seven kingdoms had managed to form; but the Targaryens were a game changer.

With but three dragons, Aegon the Conqueror melded almost an entire continent into a single domain under him; and in years since the dragons had maintained House Targaryen’s supremacy. If Jon brought such creatures with him, how might the seven kingdoms react? If history has shown one thing, it is that people are quick to destroy what they are afraid of; and dragons were quite frightening.

_Should it come to it, could I put the needs ahead of mine own kingdom against the life of mine own blood?_

His eyes gazed upon the opened scroll that lay on the table, his sister’s handwriting plain for him to see. Even now he could hear her sweet voice as she was writing to him.

_“Promise me Ned. Promise me you will watch over for my son for me now that I cannot. Watch over him and love him for me as you would one of your own. Promise me Ned, promise me.”_

A promise he would keep. For it was as his own father once told him, _“In the Winter, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.”_ And even though this wolf was part dragon, he was still one of them. A part of Ned’s pack as far as he was concerned.

_Soon he will arrive, and when he does we will welcome him and his own into my halls, and share our hearth and home with him._

_For Winter is Coming, and so too are the dragons.  
_

 

**JON**

  


The sounds of dragons filled the skys around the island, their cries echoing out as far and wide as could be heard. Never in all his life had Jon heard them so loud, and so alive. From balcony on high, he looked out over the coast as men were continuing to unload ship after ship of cargo and belongings. Despite how long they had already been on the island, there was still much work to be done. While higher still in the clouds, the sounds of three dragons a flight could be heard by all.

It had been a mere handful of days since he and Daenerys had first set foot upon Dragonstone. Flying ahead of the ships on the backs of their dragons, they were the first to reach the old valyrian outpost before the others had arrived. The oldest, and furthest part of the Targaryen Empire, The castle of Dragonstone was a true sight to behold, built in the fashion of the Old Valyria of hallowed antiquity. Erected in the glory days of the old freehold, the Valyrians had raised the castle after taking possession of the island some many centuries ago. The old magics had been used to twist and warp stone to suit its creator's desires, and solidified by Dragon flame. The end result was a mighty looking stronghold, meant to inspire awe and fear in equal portions.

The cries of the dragons drew his attention once more, and he gazed upon the trio as they soared up towards the top of the Dragonmont. He had not noticed it before, but for some strange reason the dragons seemed to draw a certain strength from this place. It was true, for he had never heard Vhagar with such life in her roars, not in all the years he had known her. The same for Balerion and Meraxes.

As men continued to work down below, he watched from his balcony as some of the other ships were beginning to weigh anchor, heading off for Driftmark no doubt.

For the old island was now home to his dear friend Auranne and his brother and sister, their reward for their part in Jon and Daenerys’ conspiracy. It had hurt him to see his friends forced from their home and from the rest of their family, but they would hear nothing of the sort from him.

“You cannot change what has already happen, no more than I can command the tide or the winds. We chose to have a hand in your wedding, and so we deserve a portion of the blame, same as you old friend.”

Jon would never forget the loyalty his friends had shown him. Auranne, Daemon, Thoros, all those party to his schemes, he would never be able to repay them for what they had given up for them.

Them or the other thousands that joined him.

When word had spread from the palace of Jon’s exile, the army was in an uproar over the decision. While primarily from the Dark Legion, there were many men who held the young prince in high esteem. Some even more than his older brother Aegon. When words and protests failed to sway to king’s decision, the men had decided to act then. In the end, thousands of men, men that Jon had fought beside, led into battle, and bled for, had chosen to enter into exile along with their prince. Despite his best efforts, no words could sway them in their decision.

It was unheard of, the news sent the entire empire into an uproar over this massive exodus. Raven flew like mad in the days that followed, dark wings blotting out the sun as Summerhall became overrun with the winged vermin. Hundreds of letters addressed to the High King were asking for a response to so many soldiers leaving, how this would affect the empire, what was going to happen next, and so on.

The High Council worked day and night to address the fears that now swarmed the empire, all the while the High King kept to his chambers, with only the music from his harp any indication of his health. Even the High Queen had been denied to see her husband. So to was Aegon, Rhaenys, and Viserys. Rhaegar would see no one, not until Jon and Daenerys had left for Dragonstone.

And so it was, a near fortnight after his banishment was decided upon, Jon and Daenerys departed Summerhall for the last time upon their dragons, with only the High Queen and the High Guard present to bid them farewell. His father had not been present to bid his son and sister goodbye, but he could hear the sounds of his father’s harp playing as he and Daenerys flew away. It would be as close to a goodbye as he was going to get from the High King.

Jon understood though, he understood why father had been like that. In truth there were few people in all the world that were able to understand the High King as Jon did. He had caused his father true pain, and his father was forced to act as a High King should, not as a father would want. And he knew that if he saw Jon depart his resolve would weaken, and he would not let him go.

_Some think it is a minor punishment for Daenerys and I to be exiled from all we know, but I know the truth. I know how much it hurt mine own father to do so to us._

_I broke his heart, and I will never get the chance to say to him how sorry I am to him._

The sounds of footsteps behind him drew him from his thoughts. He turned to gaze upon the sight of Daenerys before him. She came before him in a gown of bright vermillion, with the same necklace he bought for her in Lys, and her hair unbound and flowing behind her like a wave of silver.

She took his hands into her and smiled at him.

“Is not all that bad. I was most certain we’d find the castle falling apart all around us. But truthfully, I have seen castle’s far worse off than Dragonstone.”

When he did not respond, nor turn to look at her, Daenerys took the initiative and gently guided him from the balcony; speaking to him in earnest of what she had seen so far of their new home.

“It truly is a marvel how our forefathers were able to forge such a structure so long ago, and how well it has withstood the trials of time is a testament to their skills. I spoke with Daemona earlier, and she told me that our chambers would finally be prepared within the hour. Meaning no more nights having to rest on the ship as it rocks us to and fro. No more nausea from all the ships churning”

When they had first arrived they found that the castle had scarce anything within. It had been decades since the castle had been properly occupied, and it was in serious need of maintenance. Such was what Daenerys had seen to once the ships had arrived. She had the men see to refurbishing the living and dining quarters for the moment, but also sought to breathe new life into this old fortress.

She wasn't a princess anymore, now Daenerys was the Lady of Dragonstone, and she meant to take that title to heart.

They continued their stroll through the halls as Daenerys kept him up to date on the goings on of their friends, and the island. Daemon and his men were scouting the ruins of some old fishing villages near the dragonmont that had long been abandoned. It was decided that their men and their families would occupy these villages until proper arrangements could be made. When room ran out, the remainders were sent to the isles of Driftmark and Claw. House Celtigar had long been trading partners with the empire, and were just as eager to show themselves to be friends of the new Lord and Lady of Dragonstone. Any left over were given passage to Duskendale, where the lord there was considerate to provide board and room for his men. And while their soldiers would be housed among the three islands, Jon had insisted that Daemon and his sister share Dragonstone’s hearth with him and his wife. They would not have lands or a home to call their own, unlike Auranne and his family, so Jon would open his home to them as if it were their own.

Jon and Daenerys continued through the castle, climbing the steps of the Stone Drum until they arrived at a very special place in the castle. Within the chambers atop the tower keep lay a room none had seen in an age. A round room with four tall windows, overlooking the north, south, east and west, with bare black walls. And within this chamber, Jon gazed upon a massive table that had been carved into a perfect replica of the continent of Westeros. The Painted Table it was called, constructed by order of Aegon the first more than three-hundred years ago. Gently letting go of his wife, Jon’s hands came to glide over the table, letting his fingers feel the strong wood beneath them, and the dust that covered it. Even after all these years, it still looked as strong and sturdy as the day it was made. He leaned down then and gave a strong puff of breath, sending dust flying through the air and showing more of the table’s design for the two of them.

The most striking feature that Jon took note of was that, despite being a perfect copy of Westeros, the table lacked for boundaries of the seven kingdoms. All was one, one land, one kingdom. The old ambitions of his forefather, before he turned his eyes back east, and raised the greatest empire the world would ever know.

And right there, across from Jon on the other side of the table, there sat a lone seat elevated slightly higher than the table. Crossing over to the other side, Jon rested his hand on the seat, and old dust flying off to show the red cushion underneath. Then he strode forth, and seated himself down, gazing across the room at his bride, and the table between them.

“ _This is what Aegon saw,_ ” he thought to himself. “ _He saw a great conquest to be had, that seven should be one. Would that he have seen such an enterprise through, how different might the world be today?”_

He was so wrapped in thought that he did not notice Daenerys till she came to his side, and put a hand to his.

“Amazing is it not? So much ambition from a single man. It goes to show just the kind of man Aegon the Conqueror was.”

“Yes, a greater man than any who live now.”

Daenerys looked to him and a sad look filled her eyes at his words. She knew he was being too hard on himself, he knew he was being too hard on himself, but he could not help it. This room alone helped to show the vast difference between Jon and his ancestor. Aegon had thought to conquer all of Westeros, and while he eventually chose not to, he instead carved out a great empire in the east. Truly, if Aegon could do all that then the least Jon could do was provide a better life for Daenerys.

He took her hand in his, her fingers entwining with his and smiled. She returned it and placed a chaste kiss upon his cheek.

“You’re too good to me Dany, better than I deserve.”

“Don’t say that Jon,” her other hand came to cup his cheek and gently stroke it with her thumb.

“But it is true Dany. This, this castle is not what I wanted for us, this is not the life I had envisioned for you. I wanted to give you the world, to make a life where you would go without wanting; you and our children one day.”

His gaze turned from her and glanced about the chamber to all intricate dragon statues that were everywhere. Then he looked bad to her with a sad look on his face.

“This is not the life I promised you, not even close.”

“No Jon,” she told him softly. “What we have here, the life we have now is more than I could have imagined before.” She leaned in and kissed him gently before speaking again.

“Before this, I was resigned to marry someone I did not love, and I knew did not love me. I was to make a life with one who was not of my choosing, while the one I loved most was kept further and further away it seemed. Then the craziest thing happened, we eloped. We said to hell with the world, and to hell with the plans of others, and we chose to make a life together.”

She smiled at him, and her smile radiated with a warmth that seemed brighter than the sun to his eyes.

“Whether it was this old castle, or a small house with a big red door, I am satisfied with the life I have chosen. So long as I have you.”

In that moment Jon didn’t think it was possible to love her anymore than he did already. Daenerys Targaryen, even in his darkest doubts she was the light that helped him find his way through the darkness.

There moment was interrupted by the ancient tone of a familiar friend.

“Do not despair your lot in life Jonarys, for there are far worse places your father could have chosen to exiled you both to.”

The two of them looked to see Aemon standing at the doorway to the chamber, a pleasant smile plastered on his lips. Dany quickly made her way over to their great uncle, taking him by the hand to help lead him inside.

“You should have said something Uncle Aemon, I would have called for someone to help escort you through the castle.”

“No need for that now. My eyes may not see like they once did, but my mind can remember every step and stone in this castle. As I have told you, no one in the world knows this castle better than I.”

Indeed Jon did. For many years ago, when Aemon was still very very young, he and his family lived here on Dragonstone for a time. When growing up, Aemon used to enchant Jon and the other royal children with tales of his time at Dragonstone as a lad. Of all the mischief he and his brother Egg use to get up to, of the good times, and of the bad times. He even spoke of the time he spent training at the citadel in Westeros. A fine maester he would have made, but his father had other plans for him.

Yet here he might get another chance. For when Jon’s sentence was passed, Aemon further shocked court when he announced that he was stepping down from his position to serve House Targaryen of Dragonstone as their maester.

“I have served the empire wherever it has needed me. Now I feel a need for my skills at Dragonstone. The castle will have been unmanned for many years, and will lack for a Maester as well. Fortunately I have trained in such a fashion, and have a chain of mine own forged.”

Despite the pleas and arguments, Aemon would not be convinced otherwise. And so it was that not one, but two princes of the blood would go west into exile.

Though his own decision, Jon still felt the weight of Aemon’s exile on his shoulders, like a weight he was cursed to carry. The same for the others. Every single one of the people that chose to follow after Jon into exile, he felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility for them.

_The fools that they are, yet I am the fool they chose to follow. So I owe it to them to see them provided for._

_They deserve that much from me._

As Daenerys guided their uncle closer to the table, his ancient fingers reached out and felt the table, and all the designs carved into it.

“It is just as I remember it.” A fond look of nostalgia took over him as he traces over the table’s edge. “Remarkable, isn’t it,” he asked of Jon? “So certain was Aegon that his future lay here in the west that he commissioned this table be made. A view of Westeros as he saw it to be. One great land united together under a single ruler, not fractured among bickering kingdoms as it is today. When I was young, and first laid mine eyes on this table, I asked my father why Aegon chose not to conquer Westeros? Why instead did he choose to turn east? My father answered, “I believe he felt something calling him back to the freehold, perhaps the spirits of those lose in the doom, perhaps the council of his advisors won him over in the end? But this table here is proof that Aegon still had plans for this land.””

He finally came to a stop before Jon, and his weathered features turned hard as he spoke again.

“Aegon the Conqueror did not commission this table for idle decoration. It stands as a symbol of unfinished business, of ambitions not yet realized as of yet, but left here to remind those that followed what was left to be done.”

Jon looked into those eyes of Aemon’s, and he could swear that there was life in them. Despite being blind for many years now, Aemon still had a way about him that made it seem like he was not the sightless old man he appeared. It was moments like this that reminded Jon that if things had been different, it would have been Aemon who sat the high throne, and not his brother Aegon V.

“Mayhaps one day someone will carry out that dream, but for now my priorities are to settling several thousand men and their families among what little space we have.” Jon looked to the table and tapped upon Dragonstone, “We have at least four thousand that came into exile with us, men with their wives and children who gave up what little they have to follow me to Westeros. There is only so few we can house on these three islands.” Jon leaned back into his chair before continuing.

“Aside from duskendale, I have also spoken to the lords Bar Emmon and Sunglass, who have agreed to house as many of our numbers as they are able. At considerable price no less. They will be spread a little thin, but they way I see it it’s the best option we have for now. We will have to tally what treasury we have with us, to see how long it will last. Including the payments for the settling, we may need to find a source of income to see to our own needs, as well as the others.”

And those were just the immediate issues he could think of. There were at least another hundred or so worries he would have to deal with. Ravens had been coming in since the moment dragons were first spotted off the coast of Westeros. Many lords, and a few kings even, were more than a little concerned by this sudden arrival of the Targaryens. Jon had spent the better part of the previous night, much to his wife’s annoyance, replying to each letter that demanded to know what his intentions were.

Once again it was his wife’s presence that helped set Jon’s nerves to rest. Taking his hands into her own and gently kissing his rough knuckles, Jon felt a warmth pass through him that settled the troubles and worries that plagued his mind.

“Once again I am reminded of just the sort of power you hold over me my love.” Jon told Daenerys.

“And you remind me once again that you would have made a wonderful king, more so than other dragons I might name.”

Jon could hear the venom at the end there, and he knew she was thinking of Aegon. It seemed to be a recurring theme in House Targaryen to have complicated relationships among kin. Brothers that should love each other become bitter rivals, nephew and aunt that shouldn’t be in love are helplessly so with each other, even blood shed between one another was common in their history. Yet that was in the empire, and Jon would not have that.

“Do not let such thoughts enter your mind Daenerys,” Jon said. “Aegon and the others are a world away from us. This here, this is our new beginning. A beginning of our own making, for you and me and one day our children. And I will not have such ill thoughts poison those I love most.” Gently he removed his hands from hers and cupped both her cheeks, and raised her to eye level so to kiss her. Her arms came to wrap themselves around her neck, pulling him closer as the two poured every ounce of love they could into their kiss.

Their moment was short lived as they were soon interrupted by the sounds of boots echoing up the stairs, and were soon shown to belong to Daemon. The head of house Blackfyre bowed before all present, before approaching and presenting a scroll for Jon.

“It came not but a few minutes ago. When I saw who it was from I hurried to find you as quick as I could.”

“From who Daemon?” Jon asked as Daenerys stood beside her husband?

He handed over the scroll to Jon, and the unmistakable seal of the direwolf could be seen. The Mark of House Stark of Winterfell. He quickly broke the seal and read the contents within.

After a few minutes passed, Jon looked up from reading, and placed the scroll down on the table across him. It was Daenerys who finally broke the silence, and spoke up.

“What did it say Jon, what did they want?”

“My uncle Dany. King Eddard Stark of invites us to share in his hearth and home at Winterfell, to properly welcome us to Westeros.”

Daenerys reached and took the scroll in hand and scanned its contents. After a moment she spoke again, “He invites us, and our noble lords and ladies to join in a celebration at our arrival. He only asks that we leave our dragons behind, so as not to frighten the common people.”

A reasonable request, but this whole invitation had set his mind spinning. He knew that he would cross paths with his mother’s family, his family too, in time, but had not expected for it to be so fast. Standing from his seat he looked out one of the windows and gazed at the ocean below. A part of him was flattered at the invitation, excited if he was being honest with himself. Another part, on the other hand, was looking at this invite for what else it could be. A trap perhaps? Meant to lure him and the others into a trap, and then eliminate them and any potential danger they might offer. Perhaps they might seek to hold Jon and Daenerys for ransom, use them to squeeze a hefty sum from his family’s coffers. These and a dozen more thoughts raced through his mind, even as Aemon spoke up once more.

“An invitation from a King is no small matter. It would be shameful, and look suspicious, if you were to refuse,” Aemon told Jon

Daemon did not agree. “It would be unwise to not consider the possibility, however remote it might be, that this could be a trap. Unlike in the empire, which is solely ruled by your family, these Kingdoms are their own ways; delicate things that are easy to break if pressed. Not to mention that the arrival of a powerful force such as ours would give any of these kings reason to worry. Blood or not, I say we treat this with caution.”

It heartened Jon some to see that despite the change in location, the people he loved were still themselves. In the military, Daemon had often been referred to as the Dragon’s Shadow, for how closely he kept to Jon, making sure no harm came to his friend. It was a moniker that Daemon had accepted with pride, for his house had long prided itself on their loyalty to Jon’s own.

Once again Aemon spoke in favor of accepting the invite. “We are small and new here in this strange, foreign land. These kingdoms have ruled side by side for thousands of years, that they still remain seven shows the cautious nature of the kings today. None wishing to break what fragile peace they have among their realms. That being said, to them we will appear as a foreign threat to their peace. It only takes one of the seven playing on the others fears to unite them against us. Better we make friends now than enemies later.”

Jon could see the wisdom in his uncle’s words, in his friend’s as well. In the back on his mind Jon wondered to himself if this was the type of issues that his father had to deal with all the time. And he wondered if he felt as overwhelmed by them as Jon did right now. He closed his eyes for a moment, and noted that he could hear no more the dragons in the sky. Perhaps they had tired of flight, and decided to seek rest in the hills somewhere.

Looking to his wife for a moment, Jon then asked that he and Daenerys be left alone for a moment, promising to let them know his decision after they had spoken.

Once the two were alone, Jon rose from his seat and turned to face out towards to sea, looking ahead at the distant coast of Westeros. His wife came to join him by his side, and waited for Jon to speak first.

“I find myself torn Dany,” Jon told her. “I see the merit in both their counsel, which strangely enough only makes deciding harder. On one hand I could trust that they will welcome me as family, that blood will win out over a King’s duty. On the other hand I could be walking us straight into the wolf’s den, and there might be no chance for us to escape.” He turned and looked to his silver bride and asked her, “What should I do?”

The first thing she did was rest her head against his shoulder, her hands coming to rest on his other shoulder and chest in an embrace. Then she spoke soft as a whisper to him.

“My poor poor Jon. So many worries plague you, and I find myself powerless to do anything about it. All I have is the words of a wife, the same counsel your own mother would give to my brother. Sometimes a king must take risks, must gamble on the chance he coulding into danger, or not.” She held him closer to her, her hand softly caressing his chest in soothing motions. “Accept the invitation, let us go to see your mother’s family, your family, and see with our own eyes if they are our friends or our foes. No matter the outcome, we will do this together, as we shall do all things in our lives; forever and always.”

From the mouth of his own beloved wife, and just like that his doubts were gone. I suppose it was no real shock to him. Some of the greatest men in his family’s history were always guided by some of the greatest women in history. Queen Rhaenys, Queen Alysanne, Lady Laena, Princess Mariah Martell, all stood side by side their husbands, and helped guide them when they needed guidance most. Daenerys was no different.

Feeling his doubts wash away, Jon’s hand reached up to take hold of Dany’s and smiled at her.

“Then we’d be hurry in our preparations no? It might seem quite rude of us to arrive without giving them forewarning now wouldn’t it?”

His princess smiled at him, and leaned up quickly to peck him on the cheek. Soon they had Aemon and Daemon summoned back into the room to give them Jon’s decision.

“Send word to King Stark. Tell him that the Dragons of House Targaryen accept his invitation," he smiled confidently as he held his bride close to him.

"And eagerly await this meeting of Ice and Fire.”

 

**RYON**

  


He was up and on his feet before the sun even broke over the horizon. It was all routine for him by now. Wake, dress, eat, work. Granted it was waking from a nice soft bed, dressing in nicer clothes than he had any right to, and eating from the very same table that the King and his children ate from.

Being the bastard nephew of a King had it’s advantages.

Ryon was a Stark on his father’s side, but spent the first couple of years of his life growing up with the Daynes of Starfall. His mother, the beautiful Lady Ashara Dayne, had been the lover of the late Prince Brandon of Winterfell. Their union was of equal parts attraction and lust, as he had heard it. While too little to remember her as well as he’d like, his Uncle Ned has spoken of his mother with as much remembrance as he could recall. All who he asked about his mother all agreed she was a bewitching beauty, a star that shone even brighter than the sun above. Sometimes when he dreamed of her, and what she would look like, he envisioned a kind and gently beauty with no equal on this earth.

Perhaps that is why she died? Because she was too good for this world they lived in? A stupid thought, but Ryon had to wonder.

It was shortly after her death that Lord Dayne had decided to send the baby Ryon to live with his father’s family, a decision all but the sword of the morning, his uncle Arthur Dayne, agreed to.

Ser Arthur was the greatest knight in all seven kingdoms, a swordsman without equal, the pride of the House Dayne. But his respect would not change Lord Dayne’s mind. So he imagined it surprised Ser Arthur when word returned from Winterfell with news that King Eddard would accept custody of his late brother’s bastard son. Seeing as there was no use in fighting, Ser Arthur at least insisted on escorting his sister’s son to the North. Once they had arrived, he handed over Ryon begrudgingly to Kin Eddard, but promised to return as often as allowed to check on his nephew, his uncle Ned promised Arthur the gates of Winterfell would always be open to him.

So that was how a bastard like him ended up living alongside his royal uncle’s family in the ancestral home of his forefathers.

And that was something none could deny him. Just one look at his eyes and you could see his father in him. Though his hair definitely favored his mother's side. He suppose he should thank them both, for Ryon had grown to be a handsome man by any standards. Were it not for his status as a bastard, he surely could have netted himself a proper bride from one of the northern houses. Maybe one day he will?

Passing through the kitchens quickly, Ryon grabbed himself a half loaf of bread, and a smidge of butter before the cook yelled for him to stop that. Finding the great hall deserted, he sat himself down and ate quietly in peace, chasing down the food he ate with some milk he borrowed on his way out of the kitchen. His meal ended as quickly as it had begun, and Ryon was quick to clean any mess left behind before heading out to see to his chores.

_No need to give her grace any reason to scold me today._

He was of course referring to his Uncle’s wife, Queen Catelyn of Winterfell. Now there was someone who shared a complicated relationship with the young man, if ever there was one.

Now don’t get Ryon wrong, Queen Catelyn was as kind and gracious as anyone could ever ask for in their queen. The problem lay in Ryon’s heritage, and the grief it brought to the Queen in the North.

Before her marriage to his Uncle Ned, the Queen had been engaged to Ryon’s own father, Prince Brandon, and she had loved him with all the passion of a first love. Which made it hurt all the more when the news reached her that not only had her beloved Brandon shamed her, but had sired a child of his own with a woman that wasn’t her. Safe to say she was not, in any form of the word, ok with Ryon’s presence when he first arrived. Not only for the shame he reminded her of, but for the potential danger Ryon could pose to her own children. If his father and mother had wed, it would have made him the true heir to the Winter Crown, and not his cousin Robb. A fear that was quickly alleviated when Lord Dayne swore up and down upon the seven pointed star that Ryon was bastard born, and would have no claim to Winterfell, or the kingdom of the North.

After that is was a matter of learning to be careful in her presence. Once he was old enough to understand the situation he was in, Ryon went out of his way to show he would never do anything to shame this family that had taken him in. And even over time, the once hate filled glances she gave him begun to dwindle, due in no small part to his Uncle Ned most likely. But still, it was always best to not give her any reason to be cross with him than she already did. And so he always made sure to be hard at work for the sake of the Starks of the North.

Once he had finished cleaning his mess, Ryon quickly bolted outside, and towards the stables. He made sure all their horses were well rested, and showing no signs of distress. Hullen was usually the one who was in charge of the stables, but he liked to keep his own eye on them; trusting in his own hands more than any others.

All was as well as could be expected, the sun had fully risen and so he slowly made his way from the stables towards the forge; where the sounds of hammers beating metal could be heard singing in the air.

When he came closer, he took not of the familiar form of one of his closest friends in all the world.

“Hard at work so early this morning, aren’t you bull?”

The hammering stopped, and the man turned to gaze at Ryon with his blue eyes, strands of his coal black hair sticking to his forehead from all the sweating in front of the forge.

“I thought I told you not to call me that name?”

“You did.” He smiled as bull put down his hammer and turned to him.

“I’ve asked quite a few time,” he told Ryon. And his friend only grinned.

“You have.”

“Do you remember what I promised I’d do if you called me that name again?”

“Something about horse shoes and anvils I recollect.”

“Exactly,” he reached over and grabbed a larger hammer, and a horse shoe from a bucket. “Now hold still!”

And they were off. Faster than anyone could register, Ryon was being chased by Bull across the courtyard. The scoffs and chuckles of the household were up in the air as they were starting to draw a lot of attention to themselves, but it didn’t matter to him.

Bull was closing in on him, so he doubled back and slid under a cart, forcing Bull to go around. The sound of laughter and clapping soon could be heard, and he looked up to see Arya and Bran watching from up on the balcony. He looked up to them and saluted as he began running again.

“Come on Ryon, he’s right behind you,” Bran yelled at his cousin!

“Get him Gendry! Ryon doesn’t have much left in him,” Arya cheered as Gendry closed in on him

Ryon might have felt hurt at her comment, but he knew better. He always knew better than anyone else.

Finally the chase came to an end when he lost sight of Bull and was unprepared when he was tackled into a huge pile of hay. Bull’s weight on him was more than Ryon could handle, and eventually after enough pressure had been applied, Ryon signaled his surrender.

“I yield Ser Bull, I yield!”

“Say my name first. Won’t let you up till you say my name.”

“Fine fine, Gendry, there are you happy now?” Gendry’s grinned as he helped Ryon to his feet.

“Ecstatic, can’t you tell?”

All across the courtyard people were laughing and jesting with one another. More than a few were exchanging coin with one another, wagers on the two of them no doubt. But all that came to an end when the solitary sound of a single person clapping drew their attention to the balcony. Standing aside his children was none other than the King in the North, Eddard Stark. All at once everyone knelt or curtsied to their King, he and Gendry as well though with the addition of hay all in their hair. His uncle smiled down at him and then spoke.

“So who won today?”

It was Arya who answered. “Gendry did father, Ryon lost him for only a moment, and then he rammed straight into him, sending them both falling into the hay pile.”

Uncle Ned seemed intrigued by this, nodding after Arya was done talking before addressing the two young men.

“You need to be better aware of what’s around you Ryon, speed won’t win at everything.”

Then he spoke to Gendry, “Well done lad,taking advantage of the moment and seizing victory for yourself...very well done.”

Gendry lowered his head even lower so none could see the faint blush he had from the compliment. You’d never know it, but gendry was a glutton from compliments. Especially from the right people.

Once the congratulating was over with, Ned told them all to carry on with their work, and for Ryon to see to all the hay he and gendry had unceremoniously scattered everywhere. As he and his children took their leave, Ryon took note of the quick look Arya and Gendry shared with each other. Then she was gone as quickly as her father and brother. Gendry the meanwhile looked almost down for a moment, then he enthusiastically picked back up his hammer and returned to the forge.

Ryon made quick work of the mess, then joined Gendry in the castle forge. He could tell something was bothering his friend. So being the good person that he was, Ryon took it upon himself to ascertain the cause of Gendry’s woes.

“For a man who was just praised by the best man in all the seven kingdoms, you sure act like someone just killed your dog. What’s the matter Gendry?

At first he said nothing, just hammered away at a sword, sparks flying in the air, and sweat gathering on his forehead. So he said nothing, just sat there waiting for Gendry to break the silence. He knew he would, it was all a game of patience. Finally after a long enough silence, his friend spoke.

“I saw Princess Arya again, the other night in the Wolfswood. She wanted to thank me again, for the gift I made for her for her name day.”

Ryon knew the gift well. A secret known to only a few, with permission from the King, Gendry had forged a small sword for Arya’s own use. Something she had long desired, but her mother the Queen would never allow.

So on her name day, they arranged a secret rendezvous where Arya could receive her gift without the Queen knowing. Arya took her new horse for a ride through the Wolfswood, and there she and the others met up and Gendry gave her his gift. He couldn’t say he has ever seen Arya as excited about a gift as she was about the sword. She loved it, couldn’t bring herself to part with it, but finally Ryon managed to talk her into giving back the sword, promising to return it to her once night had fallen. She held Gendry tight and thanked him for this wonderful gift.

He even remembered what she decided to call the little thing.

“Let’s see what Septa Mordane thinks about my new Needle!”

It was a fond memory for Ryon, yet did not explain what was troubling gendry now.

“Was that all? Did anything else happen?”

“No...well yes, sort of. It’s all so hard to explain.”

Ryon took the hammer from Gendry’s hand, and made him look at him.

“Make sense of it.”

It took a moment, but Gendry told him everything. Told him how Arya had left him a letter asking him to meet her in the wolfswood late that night. How when they met up she did indeed thank him, and spend a good bit of time just talking together. About her name day, his gift, all the lords that showed up and their sons her parents were hoping would catch her eye, how much it infuriated her to have to play at being this person that she wasn’t. How it all frustrated her to no end.

Then he told Ryon the source of al his worries. He told him that after she had said what she wanted to say, they both stood there in silence together. Then all at once she rushed him and kissed him. And it shamed him to say, he kissed her back with as much desire as he felt from her. This wasn’t play kissing either, he could feel her desire for him, as he had for her. For the longest time there had been something there, something unexplored. She never treated him like the common bastard that he was, and he always treated her like she desired to be treated. And here he was, hopelessly lost to his desire, watching her try to undress herself and him between every kiss. Finally he regained what sense left to him, and stopped her from going any further.

“Princess please stop, I beg you stop this now before we go too far!”

“Why? Why stop when I know you want me, know you feel for me like I do for you. You don’t see me as the princess, as a prize to be won by some lor’d son. You see me as Arya, just Arya. And not a single one of those lordlings could do that. I don’t want them, I don’t want any of them. I want you...just you.”

Gendry felt his heart near leap from his chest at her words, he told Ryon. But bastard or no, Gendry wasn’t going to let his desire shame Arya. so reluctantly, he told her no. He helped her to dress herself and make her presentable, and then helped her onto her horse, sending her back to Winterfell with tears in her eyes, and leaving him with a breaking heart.

When he was done telling his tale, Ryon truly had no clue what to say to him. Gendry wasn’t like he was, he was a bastard yes, bastard of a King even, but that was only on one side. The other side was just common blood, and Gendry would not think to shame Arya so by getting her heavy with a bastard's bastard. She deserved more than that.

Seeing him like this reminded Ryon about the day that Gendry first came through the gates of Winterfell. He came to them on horseback with Barristan Selmy himself. Apparently Queen Cersei was not too fond of King Robert’s bastard children, even less so with one that had been given work as an apprentice in the same castle as her true born children. There was fear that she would have the boy slain. So King Robert decided to settle this by sending Gendry north. Uncle Ned found a place for him as a smith’s apprentice, and eventually he took over as the castle smith full time.

Ryon looked at his friend, and patted him on the back.

“I know it hurts, but it’s for the best Gendry. Arya is still younger, and more ignorant than she thinks she is. Her wolf blood runs too hot at times, even for these cold lands. Soon enough his grace will find a proper husband for his princess, a man worthy of her. So take comfort in that Gendry, you did right by her, and one day she will thank you for it. Even if she doesn’t now.”

Honestly Ryon wasn’t sure if he believed his own words. Arya was unlike any other lady he had ever met. Truth be told he wouldn’t be surprised if she would fall in love with a bastard. It sounds just like her now that he thought on it. But that is why he would do what he could to ensure what was best for Arya, even if it hurt her. And believe him, Arya is the last person in the world he would ever want to hurt, be it intentional or accidental.

Luckily, Ryon knew just what Gendry needed to cheer him up.

“You know Gendry, Robb will most likely be done with that wildling incursion up at Last Hearth pretty soon, which means he will be home soon. And that means old squiddy will be home soon too.”

And just like that, Gendry’s mood did a complete turn about. If there was one thing he enjoyed more than chasing Ryon all around the castle, it’s a chance to knock the old squid down a peg or two. While a close friend of Robb, Theon Greyjoy was a scab that constantly needed to be picked at. A hostage of the North for many years now, Theon had grown quite comfortable here at Winterfell, the benefits of being a noble hostage Ryon supposed. But plenty in the castle saw Theon for what he was, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, or cover it up. In fact, his little rivalry he had going on with Theon was about one of the only things that Queen Catelyn did approve of him for. Funny that huh?

But as for Gendry, his distaste for Theon stemmed from an off hand comment he made to the two bastards about being the one to pluck a certain winter rose. That had not gone over well with the blacksmith. He made sure to let Theon know of his dislike of the comment, by way of leaving him bruised from head to toe after a sparring match in the yard one morning. Theon had insisted he spar with gendry, perhaps to try showing him up in front of the ladies gathered. Instead he spent three days in bed bruised fall over, unable to leave his bed without great effort and a healthy dose of pain.

After that Gendry returned back to his work, while Ryon proceeded inside to help attend a meeting arranged by Vayon Poole, Steward of Winterfell.

Arriving just as the rest of the household did, Vayon stood before the assembly and spoke loud and clearly.

“We have not a moment to lose, so listen carefully and listen well. In just two turns of the moon, this castle will host what could be it’s most important guests ever; King Eddard’s nephew Prince Jon of House Targaryen.”

Now this caught everyone’s attention. Ryon was having a hard time believing what he had just heard himself. Every boy grows up hearing of the legendary exploits of the Dragon Kings of Essos. Robb and himself would play at such when they were but boys. Robb as the Conqueror, and Ryon as his trusty right hand Orys Baratheon. Fun time, fond memories, another blessing about getting to grow up as part of the Stark household.

“His grace has tasked us with preparing the castle to welcome the royal prince, and his new bride as well. They, along with a small group of other such nobility from the empire, will be hosted within these walls. As such, his grace commands all hands be put to work, ensure that our stores are full, our wine is fresh, and that the prince and his bride find nothing wanting during their stay here in the North.”

Poole looked to everyone present, making sure his words sunk in before speaking again.

“I want each of you to meet with your respective heads, and get to work immediately, for our guests may arrive sooner than we imagine.”

After that everyone scattered like roaches, each going one way or another, but when Ryon was about to make his way out, Poole called out to him.

“Ryon, mind you hold for a moment?”

Not sure what Poole wanted, Ryon nodded and waited until everyone else had left the room. Then it was just the two of them.

“Can I help you with anything in particular?”

“Not me Ryon,” Poole said as he handed a scroll to the young man. “From his grace.”

Ryon quickly snatched up the letter and scanned its contents.

“His majesty the King orders that you travel to White Harbor, and act as guide and guardian for our imperial guests. That letter there is for Prince Benjen, to inform him of your business there.”

Carefully rolling it back up, Ryon nodded and left without another word.

“Safe travels to you Ryon,” Poole called after him. “And beware any Bolton marauders along the road to White Harbor.”

Without looking behind him, he waved in acknowledgement to the Steward words, even if there was no need. For besides inheriting his father’s Stark grey eyes, and his mother’s dark hair, he also inherited a natural affinity at swordsmanship; from his Uncle Arthur he liked to jest. Making his way down the halls, he crossed the great keep and came to rest before the armory. Once there he was greeted by the master of arms, Rodrik Cassel, toughest old man you’d ever meet in your lifetime. He gave Ryon a curt nod, but spoke no words. Quickly he gathered his sword and dagger, and was off to the stables. Once he arrived there he caught sight of Arya tending to her own steed, a beautiful brown mare that was a gift from her father. The satchel she had strapped to her side, that was a gift from her mother. The Queen’s way of trying to be supportive of how her daughter was growing up. With it Arya could bring anything of note she came across while out riding. It was among her most treasured gifts from her mother, which all things considered were not many.

As he drew closer, Ryon gave a holler to his cousin.

“Is the little wolf planning on going out for a ride?”

Arya turned around and smiled to see him. “Cause if so I might have to insist she take a proper escort with her. After all, these are dangerous times we live in. What with the Bolton rebels and what not.”

As if trying to frighten her was going to work, Arya merely snorted and saddled her horse without a pause.

“See if I’m worried about any rebels. There’s no man in all the North that can catch me on horseback.” Then she lifted up the saddle and bag a little to show Needle situated underneath. “And if they could, I’d have to show them some of my needlework. I’m getting better all the time now.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her. In all his life, some twenty on years, never had he met a young woman that could match the daring and the boldness of his little wolf. Coming to saddle his own horse, Arya looked at him and asked, “Where are you off to?”

“Well little wolf, that would be a secret. Sworn to secrecy by the King in fact. Couldn’t tell you is I wanted to-”

He was cut off when he turned round to see Arya before him with Needle drawn, and resting gently against his chin. The look in her eyes was of triumph, daring him to not tell her the truth. So, rather than risk seeing a sample of her work, Ryon relented and told her where he was going.

“His grace has ordered that I travel to White Harbor, post haste. Once there I am to await our guests from Dragonstone, and act as their escort alongside the white harbor men that Uncle Benjen will have prepared.”

He could already see the excitement dancing in her eyes. Just as much as the boys enjoyed them, Arya loved the stories of the Targaryens even more than the others. In their stories the women weren’t damsels needing rescue, or falling for some knight in fancy armor. The women were warriors, conquerors that stood alongside the likes of Aegon the Dragon, rode on the backs of dragons, and fought off savage enemies like the Dothraki hordes. Those were the stories that Arya grew to love most.

Finishing saddling his horse, Ryon hopped on and began backing his steed out of the stable. As he readied to leave, he looked down to Arya and told her, “When next you see me little wolf, I’ll be escorting dragons through those gates. So you best be ready for when I do. Because when they get here, nothing will ever be the same again...I can just feel it.

She nodded in agreement and then waved him off as he kicked at his horse and raced off down the road.

As Winterfell began to shrink in the distance behind him, Ryon could not think on what he told Arya. It had been said in jest, maybe to excite her, but Ryon did have a strange feeling welling up inside him. He couldn’t say why, but he felt that there was a change on the horizon.

And nothing would truly be the same again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News from the empire, the merman prepares for the dragons, reflections on the past, and landfall at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness, but you know how that song goes. On another note, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!! I Wish myself all the best in the coming year. And before we begin, I'd like to address a few things on here.
> 
> 1\. First off, again I apologize for the lateness. Life is crazy, work is crazy, so many incredible things are happening all at once, and it is hard to keep track of other things sometimes. even the things you like the most. It is my hope to be able to work on this story more as time allows, but going forward, I make no promises on when updates will come. They come when they come.
> 
> 2\. I just want to say, I encourage all forms of neat, and polite forms of constructive criticism. If you think I need work somewhere, inform me, let me know where you think I can improve. I will not take flaming reviews that demean me or my work, which I put a lot of time and effort into. You don't like it then click another story, no one is forcing you to read this.
> 
> 3\. No one will EVER be allowed to harass any reviewer on this story. No one has the right to tell someone they should not read something, or telling them straight up to not read something. That shit will not fly. Do not test me, I will shut that shit down so fast that you head will spin all the way off. Be nice, and lets all get along. Asking too much of you, then politely get the hell out of here.
> 
> Thank you for indulging me. Now please, enjoy yourselves.

IV

 

**THE LORD OF DRAGONSTONE**

  


A cold chill crept up his arms as the sounds of the gulls filled his ears. The beauty of the Northern shores was something to behold. A tad bit colder than he was normally use to, but it held a rustic charm that felt somewhat right for him. That still didn’t stop him from tightening his furs closer to him. It had been more than a turn of the moon when Jon and his entourage left Dragonstone behind, and still they were a ways off before arriving at White Harbor. From there they would take an escort up the Wolf’s Road, and finally arrive at their destination of Winterfell.

As he glanced across the deck of his ship, he saw each and every man topside was warmly dressed in equally thick furs as he was, their work seemingly unhindered by their states of dress. Not that he expected any less of his men.

“Fear not my lord, there has yet to be waters known that me and my men could not handle. You and the princess will arrive at White Harbor safe and sound with no delay.”

That was what his ship’s captain, Rolla, had promised Jon before they set sail all those weeks ago, and for the most part he kept true to his word. Rolla and his men were among the best in the imperial navy, with only the likes of the great Sallador Saan being called their better. Still, there was no one better on sea aside from Auranne that Jon would trust with caring for him, and Daenerys both.

Crossing over from the ship’s front towards the main cabin, Jon was greeted, and in turn greeted back each member of the crew who addressed him. Many of these men were among those who had chosen to follow him into exile, forsaking all that they had ever known to follow him into exile. For that Jon swore to forever be in their debts, promising to help better these men’s lives and the lives of their loved ones that came with them. Swiftly he climbed the steps and came to the steering wheel of the ship, where he found the captain dutifully at his post.

“Seems like his lordship has finally gained himself a pair of sea legs huh?”

The gruff tones of Captain Rolla brought a smile to Jon’s face.

“Not quite. I believe I almost went for a stumble right before the stairs.” A grin formed on Jon’s lips as he looked at the captain, “Seems I still have much learning to do my good captain.”

“Grahahahahaha, that you do my lord, that you do!”

Truthfully Jon had spent many years locked in land battles, or on the back of his horse, or the back of Vhagar. His career had never put him in a position where naval combat was required. That specialty belonged to the Imperial Navy, and the members of House Velaryon, the dragons of the sea. Still, Jon found that after he was able to overcome the shaking in his legs from unease while sailing that it was actually quite enjoyable sailing on the high seas.

Glancing over the side, Jon glimpsed not too far away the other ships that made of their small fleet. The flagship was the vessel that Jon was currently situated upon, the Dragon’s Silence, followed closely behind by the Cutler, the Sea Swan, the Black Fury, and the Sea Serpent. Each a ship formerly of the imperial fleet, and now in service to House Targaryen of Dragonstone. Through his spyglass he could see Ser Daemon and his sister Daemona also stretching their legs on the deck of the Black Fury. Nearby was a ship near as grand in design as his own, belonging to another of his closest friends that sailed ahead of his own. The Sea Serpent was the pride and joy of Lord Auranne Velaryon, a vessel that had seen him through many a battle along the coasts of Essos. And even now his friend sailed his ship at the fore of their small fleet, intending to be the first, and absolute last line of defense that Jon would need, for no ship had yet to match the Sea Serpent in battle on sea, nor its captain.

“We have a strong wind your lordship. At the rate we are going I’d estimate we’ll arrive at White Harbor in less than a few days. If the tides be kind that is.”

Rallo’s words were ones spoken from a man who had years of training under his belt, and so Jon would trust in the captain’s assessment of their time to their destination.

“I trust you will deliver us safely to the docks of White Harbor in one piece. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I am in need of a short rest below deck.”

The captain let out another hearty laugh before Jon left his company, and made his way down to his cabin. Passing crewmen here and there, Jon finally arrived at his and his wife’s room, gently opening the door and entering without a word. Once inside he gazed upon the sight of his wife in the midst of devouring yet another book whilst resting on their bed.

Ever since the invitation from the Starks first arrived, Daenerys had spent many a free hour getting to learn all she could about Jon’s family’s history. Since girlhood, Daenerys, like other ladies of noble families, had been taught that it was always expected of them to be well informed on any nobility they might one day host in their halls. It was a lesson she had not soon forgotten, as she had ordered everything they could get their hands on about the histories of the north, and the noble houses that ruled there, to be brought to her at once; all while she was preparing their household for their trip North.

During the many weeks they had been at sea, Daenerys had immersed herself in book after book about the rich histories of the North, of the Starks who have ruled over it for thousands of years, and of the legends that made of their very sense of identity as Northmen.

As his footsteps echoed in their quarters, Daenerys lowered her book and smiled to see Jon’s arrival.

“Husband, you have caught me unawares and unexpected. What if I had been...indecent?”

A wicked grin replaced her gentle smile, and Jon’s response left no doubt on his thoughts.

“Then I would have see to my wife and ensure she is properly covered. Lest there be prying eyes lurking to take a glance at such perfection.”

Her book she laid aside next to her as Jon removed and allowed for his furs to drop to the cabin’s floor. Then he slowly crawled up onto their bed, and closed in on Daenerys, her hair loose and spread over the pillows like a ocean of silver. Once on top of her his hands gently caressed her sides and he kissed up and down her neck, causing a moan to escape from her lips.

“And what if some lusty scoundrel managed to see me whilst I was...indecent?” She had asked with a shortened breath.

“Then I would hunt him down and gouge out his eyes,” Jon said in a deep and husky voice. “For I am a jealous sort and would not share you, nor your beauty with any other.”

His words set her body afire with excitement. Jon alone was capable of eliciting such a response from her, only he could make her feel as though she were alive like no other. His kisses grew higher and higher until he was nibbling at her earlobe. Her shortened breath formed a smile on Jon’s face as he continued toying with his wife. While his pleasuring of her continued, he took note of the book at Daenerys had been reading before his arrival. Removing his right hand from the small of her back, he reached out and picked up her book, gazing at the title upon the front.

“Myths and Legends of the North, a Maester’s Accounting of the Disputed Histories of the Kingdom of the Northmen. Sounds like quite the read my love.”

Dany quickly plucked it from his hands and closed it soundly.

“Yes it was,” she told him as he raised himself up on his hands and knees. Their little foreplay had left her a little bit out of sorts appearance wise, while Jon just thought it made her look all the more desirable. Sadly, he could tell by her expression that the time for play was at an end. Jon leaned himself over on one side, and came crashing down onto the bed right next to Daenerys, his hand entwining with hers as they both contently stared into the others eyes.

“So what were you reading before you stopped.” he asked her as his other hand came to rest upon her cheek.

“Various accounts of events that are said to have, and have not occurred in the North. The biggest one they argue about is what they called ‘The Long Night’.”

Jon’s eyes widened slightly for a half a moment. That was something he had not heard spoken of since he was a young princeling, begging mother and father to read him stories of the ancient past to send him to sleep. One night Jon told his mother that he could not go to sleep without the bestest story she could think to tell. So his mother had gathered him up in her arms and gently tucked him into his bed. Then she proceeded to regale him with the legend of the Long Night, of a terrible darkness that lasted for an age, bringing with it demons of ice who stole the lives of all that ran red with blood. She would describe them as talk figures that looked like they were men, with skin thin and tight the color of snow, and eyes bluer than any frost one could imagine. They rode on the backs of giant spiders that crossed great distances, and could outpace even the fastest of horses bred. She told the young Jon that it was during this darkness that the men of the North, and the Children that dwelt in the Forests, came together in an alliance to combat the frozen devils that threatened all. Then, after a generation of fighting had passed the demons simply vanished, and with them went also the night and the cold that had claimed so many lives. For the first time in some people's lives they could see the sun, feel its warmth upon their skin, and bask in the light that shone all over the lands.

Still there were those who feared that such a darkness might return once again. So a great king had built the largest wall in all of creation, dividing the lands of the North in twain and sealing off one side from the rest of the western continent forever. Then he created a sacred order of watchers to guard over the wall, and ensure that mankind would be prepared should the day come when those evils return, and a second long night could begin.

Needless to say Jon would not sleep well for the next fortnight after hearing such a tale. It got so bad that he was beginning to see ice demons in every shadow that he passed. But as with most childhood fears, they abated with time. The monsters of his nightmares soon became replaced with the monsters he found out on the battlefield.

“There are many different accounts about what happened, and many even question if the Long Night even happened at all. Its one of the most recurring themes I have come across in Northern culture, so I figured it would do me well to become better acquainted with the stories. Your uncle’s house claims descent from the man who is said to have raised the mystic wall of the North, and founded the order of the Night’s Watch. There might be something to learn from studying such an event of that importance in their culture.”

Jon could see the reasoning behind her actions. For someone like her who did not nearly know as much about the Starks as he did, she needed every advantage she could. This was how the ladies of nobility were taught, to always be consciously aware of other nobility, to learn what they could about the other houses, and use that to their advantage. Daenerys had always been a quick study, and was able to charm over many of the nobility with her knowledge of their houses and histories. The Starks would be no different.

For a while they just laid there in silence, content to just stare into the others eyes and speak not a word. Sometimes there was no need to speak aloud. All one needed was to rest and convey what they were feeling with their eyes. The windows into one’s soul as Uncle Aemon had once described it to Jon.

So after a few more minutes of silence, Daenerys broke it and spoke.

“Are you worried Jon?” She asked him with concern evident in her voice.

“Worried about what Dany?”

“This, all this with the Starks Jon. I’m afraid you're worried that things may sour with them, and things will be as strained with them as they are with the rest of our family. I fear that they will not live up to your expectations, or be the people you hope them to be so badly.”

And there is was, straight from the mouth of the person who loved and knew him better than anyone else in the entire world. The fear that continued the gnaw at him like maggots burrowing deep into a long dead corpse. He never spoke it aloud, for fear of making it so, but Jon had long feared that the Starks he had been told about since childhood would not be the people he would meet. It might have sounded a little childish, but a part of Jon wanted nothing more than to have members of a family that he did not have any complicated relationship with. A silly thing to think about he would admit. But when he looks at the condition of himself and his immediate family members like his father and brother, is he wrong to worry about how things will turn out with his mother’s family?

Gently he released Daenerys’ hand and turns so that he’s lying flat on his back on their bed. Daenerys proceeds to snuggle up closer to him, resting her head against his chest as she listened to the rhythm of his heart beat.

“It's ok to be afraid Jon. It’s ok to worry about these sorts of things. I would be worried about you if you weren’t concerned over such matters. We are taking a gamble, there’s no denying it. We enter into the Wolf’s Den, and we do not know if we will leave there alive.”

He did not answer, content for the moment to allow Daenerys to continue talking.

“A part of me almost wishes we could just stay at Dragonstone in peace, but we are in a strange land surrounded by strange people.”

She raised her head just slightly to look him in the eyes.

“And in such strange lands what we need most are friends.”

Her words echoed throughout their cabin, it gave Jon much to think about. Daenerys had spoken that of which dwelled deep in his heart, his fears about this meeting with the Starks and of the danger it put him and his family in. He wished he could be the same young boy right now who once begged his mother to tell him stories about the Kings of Winter, of the Starks of Winterfell. That boy would be pacing the floors of his cabin with unrestrained excitement at this visit. Now instead of that prince, the lord he was now could only think to himself about the worst possible outcome from this journey, and of those who might be harmed as a result.

Had Jon’s exile really changed him so much? Had he truly become so suspicious of everyone that was not one of them? If so, when was it then that he had begun to see daggers in the shadows?

The stiffness of his body was all the sign that Daenerys needed to tell that Jon was still worried. So she brought herself closer to him, her hand softly massaging his chest while a familiar humming began to fill the room.

When he looked down to her, Jon could see that Daenerys had closed her eyes, and was humming a song from way back in their childhood.

When he was just a boy, Jon was plagued with terrible nightmares for a time. Sleep would not come to him, he’d scream as loud as a dragon in fright until someone can to him. Finally, after almost a year of these night terrors, Queen Lyanna decided she would stay with her young prince, to better watch over him and tend to his needs. For six moons turns she would be there for him, for when his nightmares paralyzed his body, and his screams threatened to turn his voice raw. She would calm him down, and while he lay abed she would hum for him a soft and gently lullaby from when she was a little girl. The music filled the prince with a sense of peace he had not had in so long, his mother’s warm arms gave him the safety and security he thought he lacked. So it was that over time the nightmares began to fade away, and once again he was able to dream sweet dreams.

Even though sleep was not calling to him yet, to hear Daenerys humming his mother’s lullaby, to see her go through all this just to help him, it only served to remind jon how fortunate he was to have someone to love him like his lady wife.

_No man ever had a better wife who put the needs of her husband before her own. She was a princess deserving of the imperial court, and all I am able to give her is the isolation of Dragonstone and the uncertainty of what comes next. She deserves so much better than what I can provide her._

Soon her hand stopped its stroking of his chest, the humming came to an end, and his bride was soon lost to the fields of sleep and fancy, which still eluded him. But as she lay atop him resting, Jon decided on something then and there.

_Vhagar, hear me now oh mighty god of my forefathers. Give me the strength to do what is needed, to get me and all I love through this next chapter in our lives. Give me the strength to carve out for Daenerys the life that she is more than deserving of. If she cannot be a princess of the empire, then grant me the power to make her the greatest Lady in all of Westeros. Let her want for not, let her deepest desires and dreams be made real. Be it by your hands or through mine that all her desires can be made true. That she know nothing but happiness and content for as long as she may live._

It was hours later, but Jon finally managed to untangle himself from Daenerys’ hold on him and returned to the deck, where the welcoming sight of Ser Daemon Blackfyre, and another, awaited him.

Jon warmly embraced his oldest and closest of friends once they were close enough.

“A welcome surprise to find waiting for me Daemon, what brings you over to our ship?”

“A change of scenery if you find that believable,” They both looked at one another with a grin, the jest obvious between them. “If not then it is simply to inform your lordship of some new news that has reached out ears. News I feel you should hear of right away.”

Now Jon’s curiosity was peaked. But before he and Daemon could speak further, he turned and greeted the other accompanying Lord Blackfyre.

“Commander Kurzan, what a welcome surprise,” Jon greeted him as he extended his hand towards the towering giant before him.

“As always your grace, the pleasure is mine alone,” came the soft spoken reply from the Sarnori warrior.

Kurzan was a fifteen year veteran of the Dark Legion, his service dating far before Jon ever joined their ranks. He was among the fiercest of their warriors, a name that was admired and feared from all corners of the empire, and even in some parts of the Dothraki Sea. He truly was a towering giant of a man, in no small part to his Sarnori blood. To gaze upon him was to gaze upon an extremely tall, large, and muscular man with short spiky crimson hair and two symmetric scars on both sides of his face. His legs long with his thighs being equally as long as his lower limbs. He has sharp, intense eyes, highly arched eyebrows, and prominent lower eyelashes under each eye. He always could be found wearing a massive light ragged scarf that covers his mouth and reaches around his shoulders, concealing the full extend of his mouth scars from prying eyes. Black was his choice of color, with the recent addition of a large black cloak to help deal with the increasing cool weather they were facing.

Even now Jon could recall first meeting this massive behemoth when first he joined the Dark Legion’s ranks. His first year had passed and they had just finished dealing with a raid on Lys by a fleet of corsair pirates who called themselves the Narrow Kings. While the rest of the empire was safely landlocked, Lys was an island unto itself, and aside from their own military, which was very little already, it would take them far longer to receive aid from any other part of the empire. So it was that Jon and the Dark Legion had been dispatched with all haste to support Lys.

When they arrived they had come across quite the sight. Thousands of pirates pouring into Lys from hundreds of ships, they fought with madden fever, as though possessed with some great power to fight on.

Jon and the others were sent to reinforce Kurzan and his division, who were the first to respond to the city’s distress call. It was still a sight to behold, watching Kurzan cut down wave after wave of enemies that threw themselves at him. His trident, a beautiful golden piece of work, was stained red with so much blood, yet the enemy still fought on.

Their archers rained down shadow arrows on the pirates once the sun had fallen. Their swords cut through them in the shadows, Jon and others, led by Kurzan, managed to sneak to the enemy fleet, and set their ships aflame. Once the full might of the Dark Legion had been unleashed, the pirates could do nothing, nothing but watch as one by one their numbers dwindled down to nothing.

Once the killing was finished, and all the dead seen to, Jon finally had a moment to speak with Kurzan, who warmly greeted him with all the respect due his station.

“Your grace, it is an honor to finally make you acquaintance,” he spoke ever so softly and with the most reverence Jon had ever heard. He bowed low before Jon before raising himself up when Jon motioned for him to do so.

“Please believe me Commander, the honor is all mine,” Jon spoke earnestly. “Since first joining the Dark Legion, all I have heard talk about was you and the other five Titans of the Dark.”

Strange as it might have been, Jon would swear to Vhagar that Kurzan had blushed when Jon spoke about him and the others. The five men who were renowned as the five deadliest warriors ever brought forth from the ranks of the Dark Legion. Each a master warrior, deadly with a different weapon, all to be feared.

Kurzan stood to his full height as he gestured for the young prince to follow him. Through the streets of Lys they observed with their own eyes the damage left in the wake of the Narrow Kings siege of the city. The streets that still ran red with blood, the buildings and homes burned and broken by flame and explosion both. And of course, there was all the corpses that littered the ground, both pirate, civilian, and legionnaire in equal shares. It would take some time for the city to properly heal, but new had come that the high King was already dispatching aid from the other provinces to speed of the recovery. Builders, workers, healers, traders, all that could help to restore Lys were summoned and sent with all haste. Until then, Jon and the Dark Legion were to remain and keep watch over the city, unless they were called for.

“It will take much time, but I am certain Lys will rise again, better and stronger than it was before.”

“I believe so too commander.” Jon said. “Especially if my mother the High Queen has anything to say about it. If I know her, she has already convinced the High King to send double what he was going to send to begin with. That’s just the kind of woman that she is.”

“The High Queen is indeed an incredible woman. She and the late Queen Elia did wonderful work together in helping the empire to flourish. As a matter of fact, if it were not for here I would not be here today.”

“What mean you by that,” Jon asked of Kurzan?

“I had been sent to survey a possible Dothraki incursion near Qohor when all of a sudden me and my men were ambushed by screamers. They killed many of us, and took what remained as prisoners. For six weeks they kept us prisoners, killing us at their discretion for whatever reason they chose. When there was only a handful of us left, she finally arrived. Bold and brazen, she entered into the heart of the Dothraki camp with only a single member of the White Legion to protect her. For hours and she the Khal argued with one another. There were timed I feared for her safety as her tones would rise even higher than that of the Khal’s own. Finally, after a full day had passed, an arrangement had been reached and we were set free.

Jon was in amazement at what he was hearing. He knew his mother was the bold and reckless type at times, but this went far beyond anything he knew his mother had done before.

“Once we had returned to Qohor safely, I has asked for a private audience with your mother. Alone, I thanked her for her bravery, and swore to her an everlasting oath of loyalty.”

At this he looked down at Jon, his eyes seemingly lost as he recalled the past.

“I swore to her should she or her children ever had need of me or my services, that I would always answer the call. Were it not for High Queen Lyanna I would most certainly have been torn apart at the pleasure of the horse lords.”

Finally they arrived at the Legion’s camp, where their brothers in arms were resting, and healing after a hard battle fought. When they arrived at Kurzan’s tent, he turned to Jon once more.

“I tell you all this because I want you to always remember that the oath I swore is not only for your mother, but for you as well. If ever you have need of me my prince, I promise I will be there for you. Always.”

And he has been true to his word. For the remaining years left to him in the empire, Kurzan had always watched out for Jon whenever he could., ensuring that he returned home from every mission, ensuring that the oath he swore was being fulfilled. And then when Jon was sent into exile, he chose to follow him as well. Great men like him chose to follow Jon, so he was dead set on making sure he lived up to all the faith and trust these men and their families put in him.

After the handshake, Jon looked back to Daemon. “So, you were saying about news I should hear about?”

“Indeed Jon. I received a raven not a day ago bringing word from the empire.”

Now this caught Jon’s attention. “Go on,” he urged his friend.

“As the message says, there’s been a bit of turmoil boiling up in the empire of late. The High King has retired to the comforts of the summer palace, and given governing jurisdiction to the council of nine. Which is now being spearheaded by Prince Aegon if the rumors are to be believed.”

This was the last thing Jon had expected to hear. Aegon had always had influence as the heir, but the council of nine was a body of power in and of its own. Their power and authority only second to the High King himself. And now Jon was hearing that his brother now spearheaded this group of powerful individuals. This did not sit well with Jon at all.

“Daemon, I want you to tell me everything you know about this,” Jon asked of his friend.

His friend nodded, and so began explaining to Jon all that was transpiring in the empire. The empire had always been a divisive place, with factions like his mother’s advocating for change, for reformation, while others like his brother, preferred to keep the status quo, and make better their own positions. It took his mother many years, but she finally managed to balance out the Council of Nine with enough of her own allies to help push through many of the reforms she had worked long and hard on. Together with the High King, a great many changes had been made, and not necessarily to everyone’s enjoyment within the nobility of the empire. So to hear that not only of his father’s absence from governing, but also that his brother, a natural born traditionalist, had sway over the Council of Nine, brought no small amount of discomfort to Jon let it be said. Daemon’s tale continued, telling of the new edicts made by this new Council of Nine, of the riots, of the infighting that had begun to blossom. Aegon and his followers were attempting to force all that his mother and their father had worked on for years to simply vanish overnight. Did no one make note of the violence that would surely follow as a result.

And so it was that now, with so much turmoil breeding in the heart of the empire, that many hundred more were attempting to leave and immigrate west, following after Jon and his followers. This was the part that was distressing Jon more than he liked to admit. He already had thousands of men and their families that came with him, and he was having a hard enough time settling them here in Westeros. Now he is being told that hundred more are also following him, and the possibility of even more after them coming being very likely. It was all too much to take in at the moment. Try as he might, Jon couldn’t see how he could handle this. If more and more people decided to exile themselves into Westeros, Jon would without a doubt feel a responsibility for them. And as such, he would try and do all he can to provide a fresh start for them. But there was already so little space for those already here. How was he suppose to settle hundreds more newcomers?

Long into the night Jon and Daemon discussed such matters, Kurzan having been dismissed and sent to keep watch for the two young lords. They spoke and debated on what action they should take, of how they could handle this influx of imperials coming to the west. And no matter how they tried to work it, they both came to the simple conclusion: there simply was not enough land to settle them. What good grace they could earn from these minor lords and minor houses to help house what came with him in the beginning was one thing. If what Daemon feared came to pass, thousands more could come seeking refuge under the banner of the Dragons of Dragonstone.

“Jon what are we to do,” his friend asked again?

“I don’t know Daemon,” Jon said. “But there is one thing that I do know, and that is we cannot bear such numbers with our small holdings. We must find an alternative. Something to do about these new arrivals.”

“Perhaps we could speak to the storm king or the mountain king? See if we might settle the new arrivals in their lands somewhere?”

Jon shook his head no at this. “The mountain King prepares for a possible civil war between his two heirs, and the storm king, I am told it would be wise not to court such trouble by seeking anything from him. He is not well liked by his own vassals, and I dread to think he might do any harm to our people.”

“Then what do we do Jon?”

He didn’t know. This came to him so suddenly, without warning, and without care. Something would have to be done, this he knew. But the question remained, what would he do?

Before he could reply, the sound of a horn broke over the morning mists. A strong cold chill danced through the air, and the dark of night was beginning to give way to dawn. Jon and Daemon journeyed to the bow of the ship, where when they could finally see past the mists, laid eyes upon the shores of the North.

Finally, after all these weeks, they had arrived  
  


**THE BASTARD OF WINTERFELL**

 

If you had woken that morning in White Harbor, and thought you heard the sound of thunder ringing through the air, you could be forgiven for making that mistake. What it really was was the sound of thousands of footsteps, and horse hoofs, all hurrying to and fro for the imminent arrival of the Targaryen party.

Ryon had arrived in White Harbor nearly four days ago now, and in that time he had never quite seen the city as busy as it was in those days. In the past Ryon had traveled here for work and play, and all in the city walls was a rather comfortable quaintness. His uncle Benjen lived here with his family, serving as the Admiral of the Northern Fleet, and commander of the armies of the White Knife.

There was a time that Ryon had though to leave the comforts of Winterfell behind him, and find a new home for himself here in White Harbor. It only lasted for half a moment, for Ryon knew he could never abandon his father’s home, nor his brothers and sisters in all but name. He may have been their bastard cousin, but Ryon had been raised among them as one of their own. They were siblings as far as they were concerned, and if any had spoke in objection, Arya had always threatened to show off her needlework to them.

Thinking on the little she-wolf always brought a small to Ryon’s face. His little sister was an amazing young woman, who lived to defy any and all notions of what a young lady ought to be. In another life she could have been a great warrior, fighting battle after battle across the world, inspiring the loyalty of the men who rode into battle alongside her, perhaps even finding love amidst her adventuring. Alas for poor Arya, she was born a lady of House Stark, with a southern mother who was hell bent on making a young lady out of her one way or the other.

In that Ryon truly felt for the Queen Catelyn. She gave birth to two daughters, but only one of them turned out to be the proper little princess that she wanted. The other was as wild and untamed as the very wolves that followed the Stark children around. And no matter how hard or how much she tried, it seemed nothing could make little Arya into the princess that her mother wanted. But Ryon knew better. He knew that for Arya, it would take a great reason for her to become what her mother wanted, and Ryon felt there might yet be hope for Queen Cateyln’s hopes.

_It may take some time, but when she meets that right person that is when we will see the change come out in her. She might not even realize it at first, but everything changes for a person...when they fall in love._

But for her sake, Ryon hoped, that whenever she did fall in love with someone, that it would be the right one, who could bring out the right change in her. He might be fooling himself, but crazier things have happened in this world, so there was yet hope for his little sister.

His thoughts were mused when the pounding on his door began. He opened it to find two guards waiting outside for him. They informed him that he was to make ready himself and to join Prince Benjen down in the dining hall as soon as possible. Once they were gone Ryon had quickly dressed himself, and armed himself before heading down from his room to join Benjen.

What awaited him instead was the hefty Lord Wylis, and his charming daughter Wylla awaiting him. Ryon was at a loss for words when he spotted the green haired maiden.

“My lady,” he said while praying that he did not stutter as he spoke. “I did not expect you and your father here. I was told that Uncle Benjen was awaiting me in the Dining hall.

“My good ser was not mistaken. Benjen was here for a few moments, but was called to the docks to oversee some last minute arrangements before the imperial party arrives,” Wylla explained.

“Then may I ask what I am doing here good lady?”

“Because,” the winded sounding voice of Lord Wylis answered him, “You are to escort us down to the waterfront. It is there that we shall await for the dragons alongside the Prince, and my dear Wynnie.”

No more needed to have been said. Ryon bowed and followed the two towards the stables, where already their horses were being readied. Lady Wylla had argued with her father that he should take a litter down from their halls to the docks, but he would not hear it. With his father’s health taking a turn for the worse, House Manderly needed to be represented, and represent them Lord Wylis would. To that end, he had resolved to await them in proper form, atop a strong steed to show them the strength of the men of House Manderly.

So after several attempts by himself, Lord Wylis was finally aided by no less than three stable boys to help him up on top of his horse. Were it not one of the largest and strongest in the stable, Ryon feared that the man’s weight might crush the poor creature.

Wylla, on the other hand, was able to mount her horse with all the grace and speed of one of her family’s fastest ships. Once Ryon was settled in his saddle, the three of them and their accompanying guards began their ride from the Merman’s Hall to the ports of White Harbor.

Lord Wylis rode at the head of their party, two men beside him and another behind him. While behind him, Wylla and Ryon followed behind. This gave the two a chance to talk as they rode.

“It has been some time since last we were able to have a proper talk eh Ryon? You show up in White Harbor all those weeks ago, and I barely get two words out of you before your off attending to every little task my father and grandfather need done.”

Ryon almost looked embarrassed to be reprimanded by Wylla like that, but embarrassment quickly turned to a more joyful mood as the frown that he had quickly flipped and a smile replaced it. Then the two shared a laugh together.

“My apologies my lady,” Ryon said. “It was not my intent to be so neglectful of all my hosts. I simply was seeing to my duties and commanded by his grace King Edd-”

“Oh hush now,” Wylla gently hissed, and smacked the back of his hand for dramatic effect. “I knew all that very well. I was only seeking to get a little rise out of you Ryon. After all, I recall that was our favorite games when we played as children was it not?”

She was not wrong. Since he was a child he had been coming to White Harbor, and guested under the Manderly roof. In that time he and Wylla had become close friends, and co-conspirators in many a misbegotten adventure together. Innocent jests that may have had some unforeseen consequences they did not intend...such as the pies incident, which shall never be spoken of again.

Ryon would be lying if he said he wasn’t glad to see Wylla again. Maybe more than he ought to be?

“Ever since news first came about the Targaryens, Grandfather has had every man, woman, and child put to work ensuring that White Harbor looks pristine and perfect. He’s really going all out on their welcoming, sparing no expense, and having the finest wines and foods made available for them when they arrive. He means to guest them under our roof if at all possible.”

“I’m not sure that the Targaryens will remain in White Harbor that long. After their arrival we were to escort them to Winterfell with all haste. And from what I hear this Prince Jonarys is a military man, not sure he’s the type to spend his time drinking and celebrating at feasts.”

“This Prince,” Wylla questioned? “Don’t you mean your cousin? 

Ryon did not answer.

“I mean your...circumstances aside, he is your blood on his mother’s side. Your father was her sister. That should make him your family too.”

“My family are the Starks of Winterfell,” he told her in a hard tone. “Everything I am, I owe to them. Whatever familial connection me and the prince share is insignificant compared to that. I am here because my uncle the King asked it of me. I am to escort them to the halls of winter kings past because the King asks it of me.”

His voice had become hard, his mood decidedly more serious, so much so that it took Wylla back for a moment.

Fortunately Ryon saw how his change in mood seemed to shock Wylla, so he relaxed again, and spoke with the same gentleness he always did with her.

It is my responsibility as a protector of House Stark Wylla. I will always do what I must for their sakes first and foremost. Always them first, and then myself.” Almost bashfully he glanced over at her. “And even then I do not always have the luxury to see to my own needs...and desires.”

Wylla spoke no words, merely turned to look ahead and blushed something fierce.

It was an old dance, one that this recent return to White Harbor had stirred up some uncomfortable emotions from the young bastard.

In the days that he had been a guest of the Manderlys, Ryon and Benjen had spent a good many times together, catching up on everything that had been happening in their lives. He even had the chance to meet the newest addition to their ever growing family, little Wyllard Stark. Uncle Benjen and his wife Wynafryd Manderly had been wed five on years ago, despite his resistance to the matter at first. Uncle Benjen had been set against marrying at first, thinking he could serve his family better by trying to rebuild the Order of the Night’s Watch to it’s former glory. In the end, Uncle Ned won out in the argument, and so Uncle Benjen relented and came before the Heart Tree to wed his bride. And as it would turn out, their marriage was quickly shown to be quite the fruitful one. Within the first year they welcomed their first born child, little Lanna, and two years after her their first son Rickard. He had jested to his uncle that soon he would have a brood to rival Uncle Ned’s own. But then the look Benjen had given him showed a little concern, when he then revealed that his wife still wanted more children, and was already trying for their forth.

Ryon had laughed long and hard at how much his Manderly wife dominated the proud prince of Stark. He asked him once why he didn’t just tell her that he was good with the children they already had?

“Wynnie is a good woman, a better wife than I deserve most like. She want to make sure she does what is asked of her as is her wifely duties to me, as was taught to her by her parents before she and I were wed.” Then he leaned in closer, “But to be honest with you Ryon, I just think she wants a big ol family to spoil however she possibly can. Sons and daughters to dot upon as only a mother can.”

He smiled to him before he spoke again, “And to be honest, I pray we are so blessed to have so many little wolves running around our home. You’ll see Ryon, one day you will have a wonderful bride of your own, and when that day comes you will then get to know the joys of being a father as well. And let me tell you right now, there is no feeling in the world that can equal the pride and joy of welcoming into this world your own child. It's like nothing else you could possibly imagine I promise you that.”

He knew that Benjen had meant well to him, but his words troubled Ryon so. As far as bastards go he can happily say that his life has been a wonderful one. He was raised under a warm room, taught by the best, raised in a loving environment with family and friends, and encouraged to always do better in everything that he did. As far as he was concerned he was the luckiest bastard in all of Westeros. That still didn’t change what he was though.

No matter how he might distinguish himself, no matter how his family might praise him to others, in his veins flowed the blood of a bastard, He may have been born the bastard of a prince, of a lady of nobility, it still did not change what he was in the eyes of the nobles. He was a bastard, his children would have bastard blood, as would their children. What kind of a life was that to have? To always be judged because your father was born out of wedlock.

Uncle Benjen had even spoken about asking Lord Manderly for a match between him and the Lady Wylla, laughing at the idea of them becoming good brothers, but Ryon wasn’t laughing. The Lady Wylla was of an age like him, and a true beauty there was no doubt. In the past the two had conversed with one another casually, and pleasantly in the halls of the Manderly’s home together over such topics. For a time, before he truly knew better, Ryon might have even though he might pursue her and try his luck at courting her. But he could see the looks in many of the eyes at the Merman’s Court, those eyes that judged him for what he was born as. Those who thought he overstepped his bounds as a bastard born child, even bastard with noble blood on both sides such as he.

Sadly their gazes won out, and he had decided against pursuing the Lady Wylla. Surely Lord Manderly would arrange a proper match for her. She certainly could do better than the bastard nephew of the King in the North. At least that’s what Ryon though.

That was several years ago, surely by now a proper match had been made for her. Those days of innocent fantasies were long gone, only the cold real world remained for Ryon, and in truth, it did no bother him at all anymore.

Trotting down to the warfs, Ryon dismounted and handed off his horse to one of the servants and then made his way towards the assembled party of Stark and Manderly men at the end. As he neared the front of the welcoming party, Ryon was better able to make out the familiar sight of his Uncle Benjen. In the three years since last they saw one another, Benjen seemed to have grown his beard and hair out quite some bit. His clothing was a mix of stark grey and Manderly sea green, with his cloak being fastened together with a familiar looking direwolf pendant, one that had been given to him as a wedding present from Uncle Ned for Benjen’s wedding.

Try as he might to quietly sneak up on him, the seasoned admiral could sense Ryon coming a mile away.

“No use trying that now Ryon. You're too big to try jumping on me, and I too old to catch someone as big as you are now.”

His uncle turned to him with a smile on his face, which Ryon returned when he was standing before his uncle, along with a bone crushing hug.

“Whoa ho ho ho ho there Ryon, keep that up and you're liable to snap me like a twig.”

“Not possible Uncle Benjen,” Ryon said. “We both know we Starks are made of stronger stock than any other. It would take a lot more than a simple hug to bring you down. 

As they separated from one another, the look in Benjen’s face spoke differently to what he had just said about them.

“Well once you have four or five of your own pups, then we will see if you are still as strong and sturdy as you were before. Me? Nowadays I feel less like iron and more like clay with how my children run me ragged all the time.”

He let that comment about children slide, and addressed his uncle again. “So, has there been any sign of our esteemed guests yet?”

“No, Benjen said, “Our lookouts have yet to see anything of late. There’s a chance of delay due to weather concerns. A fog was sighted forming several days ago. Chances are they might have gotten caught up in it.”

“Then they could be delayed by a day or two. Which begs the question why you called out the guard to assemble now?”

Benjen looked over to his nephew, the spitting image of his father and his mother, before looking back at their men and then back to Ryon.

“Just a feeling I have.”

No more need be said. Several minutes of silence passed by with only the rippling of the tide sounding between them. When Ryon peered over at Benjen, he saw his uncle’s gaze fixed out beyond the water’s horizon. He could recognize that look in the Stark Prince’s face. It was the same look he had whenever he knew something was about to come over the horizon, it was a skill he had gained from years of service in the Northern Fleet. Some whispered it was the blood of the old gods that had given his uncle such a keen sense of perception. Either way, it seemed like his intuition won out again.  In that moment, breaking over the horizon, the unmistakable sights of could be seen.

A myrish spyglass was quickly handed over to Benjen, who peered through its lens to get a better look at the oncoming ships. A smirk formed on his lips when he handed the glass over to Ryon.

When he peered through the spyglass, he saw the unmistakable image of a red three-headed dragon on black sails. The unmistakable sigil of House Targaryen.

“They’re here Uncle Benjen, the Targaryens have come.”

“Yes they are, and with them comes my sister’s son, your cousin, in whose veins flows the blood of the Starks of Winterfell.”

Ryon glanced over to Benjen again, and saw a smile spring up.

He then motioned for a Manderly guard over to him, and quickly ordered a dispatch to be sent to the Merman’s Court, to inform Lord Manderly that the Targaryens would be on their shores within the hour.

“Tell my Good Father that at long last our guests shall be arriving, and that we will soon be welcoming the dragons of the east into our halls.”

  


**THE BLACK DRAGON**

 

The moment White Harbor had come into sights, all hands on deck were ordered to make ready to land. Deck hands and retainers alike scrambled to ready Jon and Daenerys, and the other noble members of their entourage and make ready their vessels to land. Daemon himself was charged with preparing their guards. From all across their ships the orders rang out loud and clear. Their men were armed and at the ready, their royal party was assembled and presented, now all that remained was to wait.

Crossing over from their own vessels, Daemon, Auranne, Kurzan, and the other officers were all assembled and accounted for on deck as they awaited for Jon and Daenerys to join them from their cabin. Shortly after, Daemon’s own sister Daemona arrived along with Auranne’s sister, and several other members of Daenerys’ ladies, all brought together alongside the officers.

All except for Daemon, who walked about the decks, observing each and every single person aboard their small fleet’s flagship.

The last order Daemon had been issued by Jon before he left to prepare for their arrival, was to have everyone ready and present for when they arrive at White Harbor. He did not want to give the Northerners any reason to mistrust them then they already had. Plus, he was not entirely sure they were going to be able to count on these Northmen, despite Jon’s assurances to the contrary.

That still did not keep Daemon from ordering their men to be ready for anything. For all they knew they could easily be sailing into a trap right now. If that were the case then Daemon wanted to be dead sure that he could get at least Jon, Daenerys, and his sister to safety should the need arise. As it has always been for them.

Daemon had always been at Jon’s side, ever since the day they were first introduced to each other.

As with their ancestral ancestors, the Blackfyres of the empire had a long and complicated with their lords, the Targaryens. Though the Blackfyres of today traced their descent to the those who broke off from the first Daemon and sided with the High King, the sting of their houses betrayal had not simply been forgotten. For years his family had to endure much paranoia from many of the other noble houses, always fearing that the Blackfyres of the empire would one day revolt, just like their disgraced and exiled kin. It took time, but over the many decades House Blackfyre managed to show that they were not only loyal, but were to be the most trusted of allies the Targaryens could have.

Which is how he and Jon first met.

For years the sons of the Black Dragon served as the shadows to the royal sons of the High King, ever watching over them, and protecting them from any and all harm. So it was for Daemon, at the age of nine, when he was brought to the imperial palace, and introduced to his future charge.

Jon had been a shy child back then, the complete opposite of his elder brother Aegon in every way conceivable. Where Aegon made sure he was the the forefront of everything, Jon preferred to hang back and not draw too much attention to himself. Where his brother dressed in bright reds of their family, Jon, even as a boy, preferred darker shades of dress.

He can so clearly remember that day. His mother had awoken him bright and early, and had him washed and scrubbed before having his best set of clothes made ready for him. Once that was done, Daemon and his father left immediately for Summerhall. Once there they were presented before High King Rhaegar, High Queen Lyanna, and the other members of the royal family.

Normally, it would have been Prince Aegon that Daemon would serve, but the prince had refused profoundly. So it was decided that Daemon would instead be Jon’s shadow.

He had been told to come before the High throne and then kneel. Once he has, the powerful voice of the high king asked him.

“Will you dedicate you life towards the safety of my son. Prince Jon?”

Daemon had sworn he would.

“Will you put his safety and well being far ahead of yours in all things?”

Again he swore this to the High King.

And should such a time come, would you be ready to give your life for my son, for your prince?”

He hesitated at that, but only for a moment. Then he raised his head to look the High King in the eye before telling him.

“I so swear your majesty.”

Then down from his throne came the High King, who gently helped him rise to him feet. Then he took his face in hand and looked at him, as though taking in the young noble’s measure. Then he smiled.

“Then please, come meet the prince you are going to be spending much of your time with from now on.”

The High King had gestured for his youngest son to come over to him. Daemon had watched as he hesitated at first, but a gentle bit of encouragement from his mother helped him make his way over to his father and the young Daemon.

“This, young Daemon, is my son Prince Jonarys,” High King Rhaegar introduced to the young boy. “From this moment on, it will be your responsibility to watch out for, and protect my son from any harm that might befall him.”

The High King then brought boys boys closer to him, a hand on each shoulder so they’d look him straight in the eye.

“You will be Jon’s shadow and protector Daemon, but that is not all I would have you be.” He looked once more between the boys and smiled while gently rubbing the top of his son’s head.

“I would ask that you also be his friend. Someone who he can rely on, who he can turn to when there is no one else.”

The King released the boys and stood to his full height. “Be as brothers would, that is what I would ask of you young Daemon.”

A surge of pride filled the young man with every word the High King spoke to him. Once he had finished speaking, Daemon finally took a moment to look at Prince Jon, to see what he thought of all this. It came as no small amount of surprise that he found Jon looking at him, and a ghost of a smile flashed across his face, before quickly disappearing.

No words needed to have been said then. From then on the two of them were inseparable. Along with Daenerys, the three of them formed a trinity of friendship that was a sight to behold. When Jon had left for the Dark Legion, Daemon had followed after. Daenerys had wept for both of them and bid each of them safe journeys. For years they served together, fighting all across Essos, back to back with one another. Eventually Daemon would go on the take up leadership of their riders division, but would always follow closely after Jon wherever the empire had need of them.

When Jon and Daenerys began their illicit liaison together, it was Daemon who stood watch over the two, ensuring none knew of their rendezvous, nor anything else they did in the private of each others company.

He was friend, brother, comrade, and confidant to Jon and Daenerys in all things.

So it was no real surprise when Jon had asked him to accompany him and Daenerys to meet with the Starks of Winterfell, nor when he made him captain of their escort guard. And as such, it was his responsibility to ensure that Jon and Daenerys made it to Winterfell in one piece safely, and return them home to Dragonstone.

Once he was sure everything was ready, Daemon approached the doors leading to the master cabin, and gave it a sound knock.

“My Lord, my Lady, we are but a few miles from shore. It is time.”

Silence followed at first, then the doors opened and out came Jon and Daenerys. As was usual for him, Jon was dressed in a formal clothing of his usual dark colors, with an equally black cloak hanging from his shoulders. Daenerys was the opposite. She was head to toe in a beautiful white dress, well bundled up for winter, with a white fox scarf  and fur cloak to keep her warm. The cool breeze from the outside air caught the Lady of Dragonstone unprepared for a moment, and left her shaking as the breeze blew by. Jon in turn wrapped an arms around, and held her close to him till she felt warm enough.

Daenerys was an Essosi, born and raised. She had never known true cold until this very moment, but Jon on the other hand was different matter all together.

Ever since they had departed, Daemon had sensed a change occurring within his old friend. There was something about the North that brought out a change in Jon, made him feel more at peace than he had ever seen him before in his life. These cold winds that others in their group struggled to get use to, Jon seemed to embrace them. Grow stronger from them if he was being honest.

Daemon mused to himself that the change in Jon must have to do with his Stark Lineage. Long ago he had been told stories of the men of the Northern Kingdom of Westeros. Men in whose blood flowed magic dating back to the dawn age of their world. And none were said to demonstrate this more so than the Starks of Winterfell.

It only made sense it would be the same with Jon, given the Stark blood he had coursing through his veins.

Jon looked down at Daenerys once more, to see if the cold was still bothering her. He was glad to see her adjusting well, and patted at his hand, telling him that she was ok. Then she kissed his cheek, and left to join her ladies. Which left Jon and Daemon alone to speak. Gesturing him to follow, the two of them made their way to the front of the ship, the sight of White Harbor clearer than ever to see now. He could see the excitement on Jon’s face as he gazed out to the docks beyond. The fear as well.

“In case you were thinking of running, I am afraid it’s far too late to turn back now Jon.”

Daemon grinned as his friend frowned at him.

“What made you think I was entertaining such a ridiculous idea like that Daemon? I’ve waited far too long for a chance to meet my mother’s family. Nothing, save any danger to Daenerys’ life, could keep me from this meeting.”

“The determination is noted brother, I’d offer a little bit of caution to that determination, but that just might be my natural paranoia for your safety acting up again.”

“Something I am both eternally grateful for, and eternally bothered by. I am a veteran soldier of many battles, I am more than able to take care of myself Daemon.”

“I know that Jon,” his told his friend. “But a long time ago I made a promise that I would look after, and make sure you remained safe, for as long as I should live. And that is a promise I do intend to keep.”

His friend looked to Daemon and smiled slightly. It was an old argument between the two of them. Jon would claim Daemon was being too overprotective of Jon, and Daemon swore he was only doing his duty to him. And on and on it went.

The docks were clear in sight, as was the welcoming party that awaited them. Men holding the Manderly and Stark standards stood side by side with their banners waving in the air, and in front of them were a small group of finely dressed people, who they could only assume were the Manderlys.

Again he looked over to his friend, and he could see a nervous shake in Jon’s left hand. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, he was a nervous wreck over this whole event. He wanted so badly to be accepted by the Starks, his fears of not living up to their expectations gnawed at him like a forgotten thought, trying as hard as it can to break through to the surface.

From behind them the gruff and salty tone of Captain Rolla rang out, ordering the men to make ready to land. The two of them looked towards their destination one last time, before Daemon reached out and offered his hand to his friend.

“No matter what may come next, know I always have your back my brother.”

Jon looked at him and smiled as he accepted the handshake, holding tight as they brought each other in for a hug.

“Never a doubt in my mind brother.”

With that they turned and joined the rest of their party. Once all together, Jon barked out the order:

“Lower the sails, bring out the walking planks. We have finally arrived.”

  


**THE WOLF OF WHITE HARBOR**

 

He knew, right from the moment he stepped off that ship he knew that was Jon. He looked so much like his mother, like Lyanna. The resemblance was so striking for Benjen, he almost let a tear escape in a moment’s weakness.

The moment the ships has docked in port, dozens upon dozens of armed men poured out in two lined formations. Decked out in strong steel and leathers, the standard of House Targaryen flew proudly against the winter breeze, alongside the standards of houses Blackfyre, Velaryon, and all the other dozens of spears their guards carried. It was plain to see that visitors they might be, they were obviously not taking any chance in strange lands, even ones that welcomed them as theirs did.

After the guards came the nobles of their group. First was a man and a woman with silver-white hair, dressed in equally silver and sea-green clothes. From their striking features, Benjen had first thought them to be the Targaryens from the empire. It was their clothing and sigil on the man’s cloak that revealed them to be of House Velaryon, a noble house of the empire well known for their naval prowess.

Following them was another pair with similar silver white hair, and amethyst colored eyes, only their attire was a strikingly dark change from the previous duo. These two wore black with red highlights in their clothing. A squire following after them carried a standard with a black three-headed dragon on a red field, the unmistakable sigil of House Blackfyre, making this most likely Lord and Lady Blackfyre.

Then at last, they finally came. At the Lord Blackfyre’s orders, all the guards snap to attention, and turned to cross their spears against one another, creating an archway across the pier from the walkway from their ship to the end of the pier. That was when they came down. Dressed in striking black and white respectively, Benjen watched as the nephew he had longed to meet strode from his ship, and approached them along with the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. They carried themselves with all the air that royalty should, and finally came to join the rest of their party.

He was truly speechless for a moment. All words had escaped from his mouth as he looked upon Prince Jonarys Targaryen, he and his bride the Princess Daenerys. To look at them was to gaze upon night and day, and not only for their choice of attire. To look upon Jon was to see all the features of the Stark bloodline. The dark hair, the grey eyes, the long face. Had he not arrived with the Targaryen banners flying high above, you could honestly be forgiven for mistaking him for thinking you were looking upon King Eddard. Then there was his bride, Princess Daenerys, to look upon her was to see all the beauty of old Valyria on display for all the world to see. Never in all his years had he come across a woman as strikingly beautiful as she was, and from the looks his men were giving her, he was not alone in thinking so.

Finally the man with the Black dragon emblem on his cloak stepped forward from their group. He looked them all in the eye, then spoke loud and clear for all to hear.

“Now comes Prince Jonarys and Princess Daenerys of that most noble house of Targaryen! Son of the High King, Sister of the High King! The Sword in the Shadows, the silent protector of the Imperial Empire, riders of Vhagar and Balerion, those most noble and terrible of dragons! Lord and Lady of Dragonstone, and blood of the conqueror! Who comes to greet them!?”

Now it was Benjen’s turn to speak. Looking to his side he smiled to his wife, then turned again and patted Ryon upon his shoulder, then he stepped forward and answered.

“I do! Prince Benjen of the Noble House Stark, Lord Admiral of the Northern Fleet, Protector of these waters, the shield that guards the innocent and weak of the White Knife. Brother to the King in the North, Son of the King past, and I stand before you today on behalf of my people, my family, and myself...to welcome my nephew and his loved ones at long last.”

A moment of silence passed, and not a soul dared move. That was when Benjen watched as Jon looked to his wife and patted her hand, then he left her and walked boldly up to him. Once they were mere feet from one another, they each took a second to take the other in. He could only imagine what Lyanna’s son thought of him. After a minute had passed, he finally spoke.

“Your Prince Benjen, my mother’s youngest brother...my Uncle yes?”

He smiled at the young man and nodded, “Yes, yes I am. And you are Jonarys, Jon, am I correct?”

He smiled at Benjen and nodded his head also. They both shared what seemed like an awkward laugh for a moment, then Benjen moved first, and reached out to cup his cheek. From behind him, Benjen saw several of Jon’s men tense up, the one with the black dragon was slowly drawing his dagger from its sheath, but it did not matter to him. He looked at Jon and said to him.

“You look so much like your mother...like Lyanna.”

Then all pretense of manners was thrown out. He held his nephew close in a tight embrace, and after a moment’s hesitation, he reciprocated the gesture.

“You can’t imagine how long I have waited to meet you Jon.”

The only thing that could have made this moment all the more perfect was if Lyanna had been here with them as well.

After the tender moment had passed, Benjen turned to the crowd behind them and shouted for all to hear.

“We welcome my sister’s son home to the North!! We Welcome Jon of the House Targaryen home to the land of his mother’s fathers, and their fathers before them!!”

The crowd erupted into a maddening cheer. Spears butted against the ground, hands clapped loud and hard, feet stomped hard against the ground, all cheered in welcome for Jon.

Then he turned and looked to Jon again, “Welcome, welcome, and thrice welcome. You are home here Jon. This will always be home for you and your family.”

After the cheering had died down, Benjen watched as Jon gestured at his wife for her to join him. And a minute later, he was presented with Daenerys Targaryen, Jon’s lady wife. After she had been introduced to Benjen, she curtsied to him before offering her hand to him.

“I am most delighted to meet you at last Prince Benjen. I know Jon has waited for this moment for quite some time, and it lifts my spirits to see such a welcome that was awaiting us. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for opening up yours to us.”

Benjen was a good judge of character, and he could tell already that he liked Daenerys.

“The pleasure is mine Princess,” he said to her as he too her hand and kissed the backside of it. “Words cannot express the excitement and joy my heart feels at this meeting. It has been a long time coming, and I confess myself overjoyed at not only finally getting to meet my nephew, but also at meeting someone as wonderful as you princess.”

A small blush tinted her cheeks, and something akin to pride flashed across Jon’s face. That was when the three of them were joined by another. It was then at this moment that Benjen was permitted the chance to introduce his wife to their guests.

“Please allow for me the pleasure of introducing to you both my wife, Princess Wynafryd of House Manderly.”

Wynnie showed herself to be all the princess she was raised to be by way of her proper courtesies, and offering her hand to Jon as Daenerys had done to him.

“We are most delighted to welcome you to White Harbor, Prince Jaehaerys. The warmth and comforts of House Manderly are yours for so long as you choose to remain in our lands. And we most surely hope that your stay will be a prolonged one.”

Jon and Daenerys both smiled at Wynnie’s greeting, kissing the back of her hand before answering her back.

“You honor us with your kindness and generosity Princess. I assure you it will be a brief reprieve before we set out to Winterfell.

Oh that simply would not do for Wynnie.

“Nonsense, you must stay for a week at least. My father and grandfather have been all a blush at the thought of hosting the dragons of House Targaryen within their halls. As he spoke it, he plans to hold a great many days of feasting to celebrate your arrival, hoping to make a few memorable memories for future members of the Manderly family.”

Then she looked over at Daenerys, “And I would be remiss if I was denied the chance to entertain the Princess and her ladies. And she in turn can dazzle we Northern ladies with stories from the empire I have so been longing to hear tale from the empire. Of late news from the east is too few and far between. We know almost next to nothing about what is going on in the East.”

Wynnie’s good cheer and excitement seemed to be overpowering what excuses Jon had probably thought up to say next. The smile and laugh Daenerys and his wife shared was all the proof of where she was on this matter. Something that Jon did not fail to notice. He has been told beforehand that the young prince was a soldier, and as such he imagined wasting time feasting was not something he was interested in doing.

It was then that another joined their small group, giving Benjen more opportunities to introduce more family to Jon. When the young man came up beside him, Benjen wrapped an arm around his shoulders and presented him to their guests.

“It pleases me to introduce you to more of your kin Jon,” Benjen saw the excitement flare up in his eyes at this. “Allow me to introduce you to Ryon, son of your late uncle Brandon Stark, and the beautiful Lady Ashara of House Dayne.”

Ryon just stood there for a moment, looking like he had no idea what to do next. So Benjen gave him a slight pat on the back, and he seemed to snap out of his funk, and offered his hand to Jon.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you your grace.”

Jon accepted the greeting, and returned it in kind, “The pleasure is all mine,” he said as he shook Ryon’s hand. The two stood locked in each other’s grip, their eyes locked on one another as an obvious display of strength was going on between them. So when Benjen broke it up, Jon was the one to speak up first.

“Ryon please forgive me, but I was under the impression that my Uncle Brandon had died before leaving any heirs behind. Am I mistaken?”

Ryon sucked in a breath before he answered back. “You are not mistake,” he told him, which served to confuse Jon all the more. So Ryon cleared it up for him. “I was born out of wedlock between my mother and father. I am a bastard.”

Immediately Jon looked like he regretted asking. He couldn’t have known. Often times Ryon was mistaken for being a child of Ned’s or his own, but no matter how much a stark he looked, or how accepted he was in their family, the circumstances of his birth always hung over him like a shadow.

So Benjen changed things over to more pleasant talk.

“Look at us, chatting out here in the cold like that. Some hosts we are turning out to be.”

Wynafryd caught on quickly and chimed in, “My husband is absolutely right. You have had a long and tiring journey, you deserve to properly rest in a proper home. So please, enough with the greetings, let us away to the Merman’s Court, and see about getting you all something warm to eat.”

Jon and Daenerys agreed. He turned around and signaled his men, and they all began to make ready to depart. Benjen, meanwhile, had a couple of horses brought for Jon and Daenerys to ride on.

“The finest in our stables,” Benjen was proud to say. “They will serve you well during your time here in the North.” They looked confused for a moment before Benjen glanced back at the castle. “It’s quite the walk from here to the New Castle. I thought you best not tire yourselves out anymore than you already are.”

“Thank you Benjen,” Jon said. “You show us such kindness and hospitality. I fear you wil make me blush with all the attention you are giving us.”

“Nonsense. You are our guests, guests of the King in the North himself. And you will be treated as such, no arguments.”

So it was, once saddled and made ready, they made their way to the New Castle, where their hosts, the Lords Manderly awaited them. Their first stop before they were to make their way to Winterfell, where Ned and his family waited to greet their nephew and his family and friends. As they made their way up the road, Benjen looked back at Jon and Daenerys, seeing how much the other was concerned with the other, even a blind man could see just how much they loved each other. It was the same with him and his Wynnie. He’d do just about anything for her, and she would do no less the same for him.

Despite what his good father may have planned for their guests, Ned had wanted their rest there to be brief, and for them to be on the road as soon as they could. But now that they were here, and seeing how well everyone was getting on, Benjen couldn’t help but think that maybe a little delay wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.

_Ned will have plenty of time with the boy once we arrive. I’m sure he won’t begrudge me if we rest up here in White Harbor for an extra day or two._

_After all, it’s not everyday the wolves invite the dragons into their den._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last! The Gathering of Dragons and Wolves begins!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gues who's back...I am back!
> 
> Hey everybody! Did you miss me!?
> 
> *Crickets chirping*
> 
> ...Yeah, I deserve that. Apologies to my faithful readers, but much happened since last I updated, and I swear this is the first time I have had free time to finish up my new chapter. So I hope you forgive me, and enjoy what I have cooked up for everyone!

**IV**

 

**THE KING IN THE NORTH**

 

For more years than he could possible recall, he had always dreamed of this moment. The moment when his family would finally be whole again, the moment when he would meet his sister’s son for the first time. In his dreams he sat at the head of the table, with his queen at his right, and his eldest boy Robb to his left. Seated next to them are his daughters and the rest of his sons, then there was Benjen and his pack.

Then finally, they arrive.

The doors to the great hall open, and out come his father and mother and his brother Brandon. They are seated alongside Benjen and his family, and then are joined by beautiful Lady Ashara and Ryon, who seat themselves beside Brandon, who looks every bit the man Ned remembered him to be.

Then last, but certainly not least, his sister and her family are announced. Dressed every bit as a queen should, she is escorted in by her husband, the High King of the Empire, who outshines all others at his table. The two are seated opposite Ned and Cat, their attendants pulling out their chairs for them, and seating them comfortably before scurrying off to the side.

Than at last, the final member of their party arrives...Jon.

In his dreams, his nephew was every bit the northerner as his mother was. Though dressed finely as any prince of the Empire should, his Stark blood outshines all that, showing him to be one of them.

A Stark of Winterfell.

His nephew takes his place beside his father, and opposite of his own son Robb. Then, once everyone has been seated, the festivities begin.

All through the evening the hall is filled with joyous celebration and cheer, as family and friends all reunite after so long apart from one another.

Cat and Lyanna share soft words with one another as they whisper and laugh with the other. Brandon is loudly laughing and toasting with father and with Benjen as Ashara pleasantly enjoys a talk with Wynafryd. The children are overjoyed to be seeing their cousins, the younger ones begging their elders to entertain them with stories, or with promises to go riding on the morrow, or visit them in their home soon.

His eyes then fall on young Jon and Robb, both looking and acting as though they were brothers than cousins. Robb makes a jape and Jon as the decency to both laugh and look flush at what his son said. The two speak of plans for the following day, of races, and sparing, and other contests to see who was the better of the two. In Ned’s heart he knows that these two would always be there for one another, long after he and the rest of their parents were bones resting in the crypts of Winterfell

His attention is drawn away by the High King, who stands tall across from Ned, and raises his cup high in the air.

He toasts his hosts, and wishes nothing but joyous times ahead for all their families. That though distance alone may keep us apart, that we all remain family no matter what.

It is Ned who answers back first, raising his glass as well and agreeing with his sister’s husband. That they all remain as happy as they are in this moment for the rest of their days to come.

The sounds of applause and the ringing of cups fills the air, and his queen then reaches over and kisses his cheek, whispering her praises for this evenings success, and of promises for when they retire later that night.

Then it seems like time begins to fly by faster and faster as the seconds tick by. Soon the night was all but  gone, and daybreak had come, and one by one their table emptied of its occupants, until only Ned and another remained. He watched as his parents, his brothers and sister, their families, and even his own, all of them one by one leave him alone, until only he and Jon remained.

There was a silence between the two of them, and it remained that way for several minute more. Then Jon looked at him, with those eyes that reminded him so much of his mother, and he smiled at Ned. Then, just like all of the others, he too left the great hall, leaving Ned all by himself.

The moment he stepped through the doors, a blinding light would always shine through, blinding Ned to everything around him. Then, once he was able to see again, he found himself awake in his bed with his queen still fast asleep next to him.

And so it was, for years now that Ned had plagued by the same dream over and over again, the perfect manifestation of what it was he desired most, and was afraid of most as well. He spoke only of these dreams to Maester Luwin, and only in the strictest of confidence. Ned had not wanted Cat or anyone else to be worrying about him should they hear of his troubled dreams.

But now it seemed like his dreams were soon to become reality.

Barely a week had passed since the raven first brought news from White Harbor that the Targaryens had made landfall, and were soon to be on their way down the winter road. He had ordered riders sent out to meet their party ahead, and escort them safely through Winterfell’s gates.

And that was just for his nephew and his party. There was also the number of other Northern lords and their families that were arriving by the day.

Ned had sent ravens throughout all the North, inviting all the Lords and Ladies of every house of note to join in the celebrations at Winterfell, to share in Ned’s happiness at the coming of his sister’s son.

Faster and faster the servants ran through the castle, food and wine were being prepared, tents and bedding was still in need of setting, and of course the castle itself had been ordered to be cleaned like never before. Ned was determined to make a grand first impression with Prince Jonarys.

At this very moment he sat in his solar as he and Maester Luwin and Rodrik Cassel were going over the fine points of the celebration.

“...Umbers and Karstarks need to be seated at opposite sides of the great hall, lessens the chance of either starting trouble with the other. The Hornwoods will need to be moved next to the Tallharts, and the Dustins can be placed...next to the Mormonts.”

“Mayhaps your grace, we place the Mormonts as a buffer between the Karstarks and the Umbers. Then have the Dustins be seated with House Cerwyn?”

Ned could see the wisdom behind Maester Luwin’s suggestion, and agreed to the changes. They spoke of such matters for a while longer, and then, once they had finished speaking with each other, Ned handed to Ser Rodrik a letter with all the seating preparations, and asked him to deliver that to Poole. The knight nodded in silent understanding, and was quick to leave the solar, leaving only Maester Luwin with the King in the North. Walking over to the hearth, Ned let out an exhausted sigh before he addressed the Maester.

“Do I dare to hope for too much Maester Luwin? That my hopes and dreams will come to pass, and Jon will be every bit the man that I have always wanted him to be?”

“Hope, your grace, is a strange and wondrous thing. During my time training at the Citadel, one of my mentors once told me to remember something about hope. “Luwin,” he said to me. “Never forget that one must always walk a fine line when it comes to hope. It is a cup that brings forth the sweetest taste a man can ever hope to taste. But should one drink too deeply of that cup, all that will be left for him is despair.””

Ned looked confused at the Maester’s words. Was he telling him to not get his hopes up, to not expect so much from this young man he has never met till now? Was he to accept him for whoever he turned out to be, even if that turned out to be a disappointment in the end?

Maester Luwin could see the thoughts racing across his King’s mind, and sought to calm his worried.

“What he meant to me, your grace, was that we should never be afraid to hope for the best, but that we should also be ready for the worst. If a man were to blindly believe in something, and his faith end up rewarded with disappointment, he is surely to fall to despair. So we must walk a fine line, and not let ourselves be swept away with what ifs and what nots.”

Ned nodded in understanding/ it always was a pleasing feeling to hear such sagely advice from his maester. After the death of his own father, Maester Luwin had become the person that Ned relied on most of all for council and guidance. He had been like a father to a young Ned, as much as his own, or as much as Jon Arryn had been. Always there for Ned when he needed him, and always able to help guide him when he felt lost at times.

Aside from his Queen, the old maester was the only person he trusted completely.

And speaking of his queen, there was a knock on the door, and the guard without gave announced the arrival of Queen Catelyn. Ned had been quick to welcome her in, his beautiful Queen in the North, who dazzled her king now with her bright blue gown.

“My love, what a pleasant surprise,” Ned said to her as he took her hands in his and kissed them both. She looked to be equally pleased to see him as he was.

“Though I am confused as to what you are doing here Cat? I thought you were still helping to supervise the preparations with Poole?

“I was, but most everything has been seen to, Poole and the rest of the household are almost finished with preparing the grand hall for all our guests.”

“And what of the rooms we set aside for Jon and his bride?”

Cat nodded in confirmation of what Ned was asking her. He had wanted them to be well taken care of, and to find nothing wanting during their stay here. So he had ordered several of the warmest rooms to be made ready for their uses.

“Everything has been made ready for them Ned. And, from what Benjen told us in his letter, I have made other arrangements for the other members of the Prince’s entourage. Fine accommodations have been arranged for Lord and Lady Blackfyre, and for the Velaryons as well.”

Ned was very pleased to hear this. Cat went on to also tell him that Wintertown had been made ready for the Targaryen guards as well, that they would find good housing there during their stay here in the North.

All of this pleased Ned to hear. He then asked the Maester if he could give him and his queen a moment alone, and the aged maester obeyed without a word. Once he had left, Cat and Ned came to rest together on a small couch that Ned had in his solar. Close to the warmth of the hearth, Cat leaned against Ned’s strong chest, and his arms wrapped around her, keeping her close to him as moments of silence passed by them. Their duties as King and Queen left them with few moments such as this during the day. It was at night that all form of tenderness could be expressed. But given all that had been going on for the last fortnight, they felt they had earned a few minutes to themselves.

The first began to weaken, so Ned reached out and stirred the wood some more with the poker. The two of them watched the fire burn with renewed life, and then Ned spoke.

“Has there been any word yet?”

“None my love,” Cat told him. “No news has reached us of how far off the Targaryen party is.”

Ned grumbled in answer to Cat’s news. She let out a small laugh as she caressed his cheek with her hand.

“Give it time my love. It is no small feet the journey from White Harbor to Winterfell. Plus you have to imagine the amount of time that Lord Manderly held them there at the Merman’s Palace for feasting and celebrating. Not to mention the speed of such a convoy with so many people traveling.

When he looked down at him, she looked back up at him with such affection in her eyes for her husband. Leaning up, she stole a kiss from him, and then whispered to him.

“Be patient Ned. Soon he will be here, and you will finally get to meet the nephew you have long wanted to see.”

It astounded him, the sheer power Catelyn had over him. With but a touch and a few words, all doubts and worries flew far away from him. It was times like this when he thought on how she had not been intended for him originally, how all that he has now, his throne, his castle, kingdom, and even his family. They were all meant for Brandon, may the old gods watch over his soul. But now that cup had passed to him, and now Cat was his wife, Robb, Sansa, Bran, Arya, and Rickon were his children; and the North was his kingdom.

He was now King in the North.

Thinking on his family had brought up another question to Ned.

“Has there been any further word from Robb? Will he be able to make it to the celebration on time?”

At this his wife’s demeanor became sullen, and she shook her head no.

“The wildling incursion has become more difficult than originally believed. An Umber man rode in earlier in the day with a letter from the Greatjon.”

At this Ned’s attention was now solely focused on her, all other thoughts pushed aside to hear news about his eldest son.

It said that Robb and the Smalljon had rallied what strength they could from the nearby towns. They mean to march with a force six thousand strong against the wildlings that are gathering near the Shadow Tower. They will be reinforced by an additional twelve hundred men from the Night’s Watch. Lord Commander Mormont has written as well, swearing that Robb will be safe, that he has sent the best men he can spare to help protect our son.

Cat went on the describe the wildling army that had been assembled, some ten thousand of them, but they were described as an unruly bunch. Sort on discipline, and without any weaponry aside from what they could steal or forage for themselves. It wasn’t this that worried Ned so, as he had all the faith in the world that Robb would be able to handle this matter. What concerned him was the fact that so much of the Umber strength had to be taken to deal with the wildlings. That did not leave them with very many this side North.

This, along with reports from the west about sightings of Ironborn ships in the evening light of late, concerned Ned greatly. These issues, along with the Bolton Rebellion as well, the North was being stretched too far. They were sure to suffer much if they continued to spread themselves in too many directions to deal with too many enemies. It would leave them plenty open for any dangers that may present themselves from the south.

When battle came, the North would be too weakened. They needed more men.

And sad as it was to admit, he couldn’t count on his rivermen for aid either. The infighting going on between Jon Arryn’s two heirs was causing unease, there was worry that if fighting broke out in the Vale, that is might end up spilling over into the Riverlands. Then that in turn would give rise to any of their other kingdoms to try and take advantage of the chaos. So Ned had ordered Cat’s brother, Ser Edmure, to have his men at the ready, and to keep a close eye on the Vale, and the Westerlands.

If ever there was something Ned had learned in his lifetime, it was to always keep an eye on for the Lannisters.

So much was happening, so much to think on, to do, to prepare for. It was almost too much for Ned. So it was times like these that he was grateful to the gods for his wife, for Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik, and all the rest of his family and friends. Those who he trusted above all. They would always be there to help him shoulder some of his burdens, and help him when he was in need of it.

Ned focused back on his wife and said, “Robb will be fine, we will be fine. The North endures, the Starks endure.

He smiled as he took her hand into his own again.

“We always have, and we always will.”

Catelyn seemed glad to hear this. Both rising from the couch, she led her king by the hand, and leading him from the solar and down through the halls, till they came to the terrace overlooking the courtyard. They watched below as dozens of servants and guards were hard at work making preparations. The guests that had already arrived were being tended to, their camps being set up, and their horses properly cared for.

Were it anyone else, Ned does not think he could have handled all this on his own. But he had his Cat, his one and only love. His equal in all things. Only she could have managed such numerous tasks and as many people all by her lonesome.

Individually they were capable rulers...but together...there was no better rulers in all the realm.

“It still amazes me to think that there are still so many guests who have yet to arrive.”

The King and Queen in the North turned to find their second eldest son Bran behind them, his eyes shining as brightly as his tully red hair. His mother let out a laugh and then warmly embraced her son, holding him tight to her as only a mother is capable of doing.

“Oh my sweet sweet Bran,” Catelyn whispered as he held him tighter. “I had not heard that you had arrived yet sweetling. When did you arrive?”

“But a few minutes ago mother. I was told you and Father were speaking in his solar, so that was my intended destination. Then I came across you both out here on the terrace, and so here I am.”

The young prince’s mother just seemed to grow all the happier with every word he spoke. Ned was also pleasantly surprised to see his son here after such a long absence from home.

It had been several turns of the moon since last Bran was in Winterfell’s walls, having decided to make a pilgrimage of sorts to the Isle of Faces in the Riverlands. When he first came to his parents to inform them of his plans, Ned and Cat had not wanted Bran so far away from home at such a dangerous time. Though the Riverlands might be theirs, their enemies were always on the prowl, even in their own lands. But Bran had been quite adamant that he make this trip, more so than anything else Ned could think of in recent memory.

“My good King and Queen, please do not think me cruel and uncaring to your concerns for my safety. Believe me when I say that I know there is much to be worried over. But also believe me then I say that I must make this journey. This is something I need to do, something that I have to do. So I ask you father, and you mother, to please have faith that I will be well off, and allow me to go.”

Ned couldn’t quite place it, but there had been something in his son’s eyes that day, something that could not be denied. So eventually he gave his blessing, as did the Queen, on the condition that he keep a strong and capable guard with him at all times. These terms were acceptable to Bran, and he was quick to select a fine group of Northern men to accompany him on his travels.

Now here he was, home after so long an absence, it felt like all the stars were lining up for Ned and his family. After his wife and son had finished greeting one another, Bran came forth and bowed in respect to his father, only for Ned to toss all that protocol aside and embrace his boy.

“It truly is wonderful to have you back home son.”

“It’s wonderful to be home father,” Bran said as he hugged his father back with equal strength. As they parted, Ned looked upon the man that his son had grown into, and could not help but see that during his time away, young Bran had seemed to have grown quite some bit. Even had whiskers of his own growing in. But still, in his son’s eyes he could still see the boy he had always been, that he always knew him to be.

“Yes, this glad tiding to receive this day, to see my son returned home safe and sound. But where did the rest of your entourage go to?”

Bran smiled a little bashfully as he told his parents of his excitement to return home, and as such how he raced on ahead of the rest of his company to Winterfell. They both gave a hearty chuckle at Bran’s story, but it was Bran’s next question that would halt the cheer for the minute.

“So it it true what I heard? Dragons, here in our home?”

“Yes Bran,” Ned spoke then in his King’s voice to his son. “Your cousin Jonarys and his new bride, Princess Daenerys, along with their own company of imperial allies will be hosted here in these very walls son.” Ned brought Bran closer, as they both walked over to looked out over the courtyard, as men and women hurried along in their preparations.

“When last we heard, their party was still a days ride out from Winterfell. We have had to give apology to our guests that have already arrived, and tried to accommodate them as such. Our worries lie in what should happen if they take any longer than they already are. The Umbers alone are already getting tired of waiting. To say nothing of the other houses invited.”

Bran nodded in understanding of his father’s worries. Summoning his bannermen from all across the North was no small feat. It took time, long hours, and the last thing these lords want is for their King to have summoned them from the comfort and warmth of their hearths for no good reason.

From Bran’s eyes, he could see the worry and concern that was weighing heavily on the King in the North taking its toll on him. All you had to do was gaze upon his face and you would be forgiven for mistaking him for being older than he truly was.

When he was a youth, no taller than his father’s knees, Bran and his siblings had been spending time in the godswood with their parents, enjoying a spring evening in the presence of the old gods. Now their family often shared such intimate gatherings together, but what made this one so memorable to Bran was what his father had told him and the others about being a king.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” Bran said. His father looked to him as his son smiled back. “Isn’t that what you told us father?”

Ned couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride at the wisdom his son was showing him. He brought his hand up to Bran’s shoulder and gave it a tender squeeze. Strange how such a simple gesture was able to relay over to his boy all the love and affection that he held for him. It would taste a lie if Ned said there were days he wished that this duty hadn’t passed to him. The responsibility, the pressures, all the expectations from his lords and ladies, it was almost maddening.

Then he would look at his children, see the people that they have become. He would look upon his wife, the beauty that she is, and remember that none of this would be had he not accepted this responsibility. Being King had caused him no small amount of trouble, but it had also gifted him something even greater. Cat, Robb, Sansa, Bran, Arya, Rickon, his family. His reason for living.

From then on the King in the north and his second eldest son stood there in a comfortable silence with one another, content to watch as the castle was made ready for their imperial guests. Sure there was still much left to prepare for before they arrived, but Ned decided that he and his son deserved a minute or two alone. Just a moment before they returned back to the chaos of royal life.

_For good or for ill we will be ready for their arrival. All I can do now is pray that they will be who I hope for them to be, and leave the rest in the hands of the gods._

 

**xXx**

 

**THE LORD OF DRAGONSTONE**

 

It took him a moment, but Jon was finally able to catch his breath after Daenerys came to rest against his chest. The liter was hot, and smelled of sweat and passion, but Jon was too content to let it give him any mind. Lord Manderly had been kind enough to provide for them their own liter for the journey to Winterfell. Usually Jon was more than content to travel by Horse over long distances, but sometimes it was good to rest one’s self from the hell of the saddle.

Though perhaps rest was not the right world he should have used.

For most of the journey from white harbor to Winterfell, the litter had been occupied by Daenerys and the other ladies that were accompanying them. Then one day, a summons from her asked that Jon come share it with her for the a short while, saying she was wishing to speak with him on some matters before they arrived at their destination.

He should have known something was up when Daemona and the other ladies were laughing to themselves as they were helped out and onto their horses. Once he was inside and their were on their way, Dany had pounced on him without warning. Their stay at White Harbor, while pleasant, had truly left them little time for themselves, to properly attend to their needs as husband and wife. Lord Manderly, bless the jolly soul, kept throwing feast after feast for his imperial guests, drawing Jon away to recount him with tales of his youth and of the adventures he had been a part of. And if he wasn’t busy, then it was Daenerys being swamped by the ladies of white harbor, all eager to hear from her tales of the empire, of life in the east, and of their own dragons as well. By the time they retired to their chambers they were both exhausted and had no energy for love and comfort.

Apparently Daenerys had waited long enough.

She took him in the litter, several times in fact. Her pent up passions flowing over like a dam breaking loose. It had felt like their first time as newly weds again, getting to familiarize themselves with each and every last piece of their bodies. After a while Jon had simply lost track of the time, and had given completely over to the pleasure, doing him best to sate his wife, and her understandably pent up desires.

So now finally, after only Vhagar knows how long, they came to rest.

Jon’s chest kept heaving up and down, sucking in deep breaths, while Daenerys rested against it with a content smile on her face.

“By Vhagar, how long has it been since you came on me so strongly?”

His wife practically purred at his question before answering. “That first night, after you returned for a short reprieve after your second year of duty. It felt like a lifetime since I had last felt your touch, or smelled your hair. I felt like I needed to get lost in it, to drown myself in you once again.” A chuckle rippled through her as a thought came to her. “I seem to recall you getting lost in me more than once during that time as well.

While his skin was already hot from their lovemaking, now Jon’s flesh was on fire, his face more so than any other part to remember such a time. A time when she lay there before him, bare and for his eyes alone, as he tasted every single last part of her. From her lips to her breasts, to her abdomen, to the sweet taste of her womanhood. Every part of her smelled and tasted as only she did to him. Like pure perfection, a delicacy that he felt he would choke to death on because gods help him, he could never get enough of her.

Daenerys could feel another part of him heating up as he was lost in remembrance.

“Oh my, does this mean you are ready for another round my love?”

“Sadly, I fear I will be unable to present myself before our hosts if we continue any further beloved.” Jon said to her as he cupped her cheek and kissed those beautiful lips for what must have been the hundredth time that day.

While she pouted to hear so, his promises of more to come once they arrived at Winterfell managed to lift her spirits. Sprawling out against the pillows while he began to dress himself, Daenerys absentmindedly began to stroke her hands through his locks as he pulled his pants up, and began slipping into his boots.

“Perhaps we might convince our party to take a slight detour before we reach Winterfell?” Daenerys proposed to him. “Once there, I fear you will be too engulfed with your family that I will hardly have any time for you by myself.”

“I fear my love, that we are already late enough as it is.” Jon said to her, referencing the additional week that was added to their stay at White Harbor. They should have already been at Winterfell already, if the original plan had been followed. Unfortunately their host had insisted they wait an additional week before departing. Apparently he had gone and commissioned a new litter for their own use for the travel, saying how dreadful such travel could be, and that he wanted them to be well rested for when they arrived to meet the King in the North. Daenerys called it sycophancy at its finest. Though in hindsight, Jon was somewhat glad they had waited for them to finish with the litter before they set out.

“Besides, any more goes with you and we might be looking at you swelling with our first child sooner than we planned.”

There was a silence that followed that left a sense of unease in the pit of his stomach. The silence was broken when Daenerys finally spoke.

“Would that be so bad?”

Jon turned to look at her and saw a smile plastered on her face. A far off look was in her eyes, and Jon knew right then and there what she was thinking about. A child of their own, a son for Jon to teach, a daughter for her to spoil, and for them to love without limit. Do not mistake his comments for sounding like he was against such, because that was far from the truth. Jon longed to hold his own son or daughter in his arms one day.

From the moment he and Daenerys were wed, thoughts of their future filled his head. Of where they would live, how he would care for them, and of course, how many children they would have together.

“No...no it would not.” Now he was smiling as he hand caressed her cheek. When his fingers began to near her lips, she opened her mouth slightly and nibbled on the tips of them. Pulling back he quickly replaced his fingers with his lips, sampling once more the familiar taste of Daenerys Targaryen.

When they pulled away, her cheeks were now red but her eyes alive with emotion. She looked into his eyes and asked him.

“What do you want first? A son or a daughter?”

He smiled and told her. “Any child born to us would be a blessing, I have no preference in which comes first.”

She smiled as she sat up, allowing for the blanket covering her to drop and pool at her waist, giving no mind to her nakedness in front of her husband.

“Admit it, you want a boy first don’t you?”

Jon didn’t answer her at first, then after a moment passed he smiled and nodded as he pulled his under shirt over his head. “Yes, a son would be wonderful to have. But I also want a daughter as well. Someone who I can love and spoil, and drive mad with how protective I am about her.”

Daenerys’ smile only grew wider as she stood and began to help Jon finish dressing. From behind him, her arms snaked around his waist and helped fasten his belt. Then they glided up over his chest, and began to help him button his shirt one after the other. All the while she did this, Jon had to fight to control his instincts that told him to toss her back onto the pillows and take her right then and there. A task made all the harder by Dany pressing her naked self against him from behind, her soft and firm breasts pressing tightly against him. It must have been Vhagar from on high that gave him the restraint to resist her obvious attempts at seduction, for otherwise he was certain that he would be like putty in her hands otherwise. Such had always been the case for Jon, ever since they were young, and well into adulthood.

Once properly garbed again, Jon turned back to his bride, and noted a look of disappointment on her face. So to placate her, he gathered her in his arms, lowered them down to her perfect bottom, and lifted her up into his arms, kissing her with all the passion that he held for her. Her arms came quickly to wrap themselves around his neck, and her tongue darted past his teeth to reach his own.May the gods have mercy on him, for no matter how hard he was trying, it seemed like he was simply powerless. Fortunately for him, Dany seemed to show him a little mercy, and pulled away long enough to speak.

“First a son, and then a daughter.”

“Yes, a son and then a daughter. Then however many more we decide to have.” He said with heavy breathing.

“As many as we want you say?” She asked him with that mischievous glimmer in her eye that he knew so well. “How many shall we have my lord husband?”

“Half a dozen at least.” She gasped as his lips began attacking her neck, causing her to roll her head back and sigh in pleasure.

“So many. Is that all my husband is content with? Why not more?”

“Could you bare to give birth to more than six children?”

Her hand reached up to his hair, and she gave it a small tug, pulling him out from her neck and getting him to look her straight in the eyes.

“Good Queen Alysanne gave her King more than thirteen births, each one a blessing to them, each born out of love. Such would be the same for me.” She smiled as she pulled him close and buried her face in the crook of his neck. “Every child born to us is nothing short than proof of the love shared between us. And I want everyone to see with their own eyes the love that we have for one another, to make no mistake about how we feel for each other.”

Every word spoken from her lips only reaffirmed to Jon why he so loved her. She wasn’t just passionate, she was also sincere in her words. There was no two ways about what she talked about with people; she wore her heart on her sleeve for all to see. And those that knew her best were able to see this as her most definable trait. Aside from her godly beauty that is.

Just as they were about to have another taste of each other, a knock at the window  snapped them out of their lust. Quickly grabbing a robe and her furs, Jon reached over and slid the window open slightly to see who it was. He was greeted by the towering frame of Kurzan, signaling to him there was something he needed to know.

“Commander, how may I help you?”

“Forgive me for disturbing you both my prince.” The towering giant of a man said. “It is just that I felt you would like to know that we are but an hour from Winterfell, and figured you and the princess would care to take the time to ready yourselves.”

Such news excited Jon, and he thanked his man before closing the window off, and turning back to Dany. Already she was slipping back into her gown that was left aside for her for when they arrived. It was an amazing dress, blue as the winter roses from his mother’s garden, and made in such a way that though the fabric looks thin, it actually helps keep the wearer warm in cold climates. Since she had helped him get ready, somewhat, he decided to return the favor. Unlike her though, he showed far more control in his helping of her dressing herself, which he imagine disappointed her somewhat. But her knew she understood that the time for play would have to wait. In an hour Jon will finally come face to face with people he had been waiting all his life to meet.

He helped as best as he could, and agreed that when they made for a short stop, her ladies would help her finish in her preparations. The thought of them entering here and seeing the damage caused by their lovemaking almost made Jon wish to jump off of Vhagar’s back in mid flight.

Dressed in his dark doublet, and draped in his fur cloak, Jon signaled for the driver of the litter to halt, and then gave Daenerys one last kiss before he exited, and allowed for her ladies to enter. The look that Daemona gave him almost set his face aflame with her ‘I know what you were up to’ stare.

It was almost more than he could bear.

So while Daenerys was being helped prepare for their arrival, Jon decided to rejoin the other heads of their convoy. Saddling up on his horse, he galloped ahead of the rest of the men, and came to the front, where Daemon and Benjen awaited. Once he arrived, one of his soldiers announced him, which brought his friend and uncle’s attentions over to him, and away from what they were talking about.

“Jon, by the gods I feared that Daenerys would never let you out of that litter.” Daemon told him with a hearty laugh.

“Believe me my friend, there were times I feared she might end up killing me on accident.”

“Not the worst way to go I imagine.”

They both looked over at uncle Benjen, who looked back with a raised eyebrow, and a smirk on his face. Then the three of them all broke out into hearty laughs, laughing until it hurt their sides.

“Yes uncle, I suppose there is truth to what you say. Though I would prefer not to die from mind blowing sex right before I met my uncle, the King in the North, and his family.”

Benjen nodded in agreement. Since the moment they met on the docks back in White harbor, Jon and Benjen had spent a great deal of time in each other’s company. Most of the time they spent was focused on Lyanna and the Starks of Winterfell. For every question that Jon had about his uncle and his aunt and cousins, Benjen fired back in equal share questions about Lyanna. Try to hide it under as much professionalism as he could, Jon was able to see just how important hearing about his mother was for Benjen. He had come to see just how important she was to him, his only sister, almost a mother figure to him after the passing of their own mother, Jon’s maternal grandmother. So he was more than happy to oblige Benjen with any answers he needed.

It was the least he could do for family.

As the three sat there atop their mounds, a cool wind blew past them, sending a shiver through the ranks of their men. Strangely enough, Jon felt very little cold out here in the north. He couldn’t explain it, but it just felt like the most natural thing in the entire world to him. Almost as though a part of him was made for these lands.

Daemon, strong as he was, was not nearly as immune to the cold as Jon seemed to be. Something that he noted to his lord and friend.

“How is it that you are wearing far less than I am in the ways of warmth, and yet you seem completely as unfazed as your uncle there?”

Jon had no idea. No answer to give, only a shrug, much to the annoyance of his best friend.

“It’s the wolf blood in him.”

They both looked over to Benjen, who looked at them with those same gray eyes that Jon had.

“The wolf blood, the blood of Stark men and women The blood of true northerners, that’s the blood that flows in your veins, same as mine.” He told Jon. “Your were born and raised a Targaryen of the Imperial empire, but make no mistake nephew, you were born for these lands. They are a part of you just as much as they are for me.”

Benjen’s words touched something in Jon that he had never felt before. He felt a sense of truth to his uncle’s words. Ever since he first stepped foot in the North, he had felt something changing in him. Don’t ask what it was, cause he couldn’t tell you even if he tried. If he was pressed, he would gander to say that it was a sense of belonging that he was feeling. Like a man who has been traveling for all his life, and finally makes his way home, to the place where he belongs.That was a feeling he knew of only one other time, and that was with Daenerys. She was his home, where he belonged. And now he felt the same thing here in the lands of his mother’s family.

“Be that as it may, Prince Benjen, Jonarys will always be a son of the empire, blood of the dragon. No matter how much he may look like one of you.”

Daemon’s words struck deeply inside of Jon. Strange enough as it was to admit, he now felt almost like an internal struggle was forming within him. For all of his life he was the son of the High King, blood of the dragon, of the conqueror himself, that was who Jon was. Now he comes to the lands of his mother, the lands of which he had been told tale after tale about since he was so young; and now that he was here, he feels a sort of sense of belonging here. It was almost like one half of him was pulling him one way, and the other side of him a different way.

It was quite frustrating.

No more so than the underlying tension that he could feel coming off from his uncle and best friend. They gave no look of distaste or anger to the other, but Jon could see there was something that put them at odds with one another. And he was pretty sure he could guess what it was.

Himself.

Daemon may not have ever spoke of it out loud, but he had long been concerned about what coming here might do to Jon, how it might change him. And not necessarily for the better if his opinion was asked. He supposed Daemon felt that it was his responsibility to ensure Jon remain unchanged by his time here in the north, that he remember who he was, and not be swept up in the new family he was getting.

Benjen was the opposite of Daemon however.

Ever since he first landed on these shores, Benjen Stark had been beyond welcoming to him and his wife. He embraced Jon as if he had always been a part of their family, treating him no different than one of his sons. They spent many an hour speaking in earnest conversation about anything they wished to discuss. He went to above and beyond to make Jon feel at home here in the North, and he couldn’t find it in himself to not be swept up in this feeling of family he was being surrounded by.

For as long as Jon could recall, family to him was a messy thing. Surely there were many people he called kin, but at the same time only a few ever truly acted in such a way with him. Then, after his exile, Jon thought that his family would be those who followed him, and his wife of course. Now here he finds himself so welcomed by practical strangers he has never met, who treat him as though they had known him for their entire lives.

It was quite the divide he felt.

Fortunately for Jon, his musings were interrupted when the trio noticed a horse riding hard for them. Their guards positioned themselves at the ready, but Benjen waved them off after seeing who it was.

Ryon, riding hard for them on the back of his horse.

Benjen welcomed him once he came to a stop in front of the trio. “Ryon, welcome back. What news do you have?”

“A rider from Winterfell met me along the Wolf’s Road.” He said with a slight shortness of breath. "The King and all his lords await for our arrival.”

This news seemed to please Benjen, while Jon admittedly was feeling a might bit...nervous...perhaps? Here they were, finally going to meet his uncle, the King in the North, and Jon was feeling nervous. It was actually ridiculous to think that such a meeting was making him feel nervous. He had stared down Khals, bartered with magistrates, even looked the High King himself in the eye and felt no fear. So why was it that this meeting was causing him no small amount of concern.

“What news did you relay back to the rider Ryon?” Benjen asked his nephew.

“I told them you were shortly behind me. That we would be there within the hour. After hearing that, he took off for the castle as fast as his horse could ride.”

“We’ll do better.”

Everyone looked to Jon then, his words confusing some.

“We push on, harder and faster than we are now.” He said in his lord’s voice. “My uncle, the King, has been kept waiting long enough, it is about time that we finally reach Winterfell.” He turned back to Daemon then and barked out orders for their convoy to make ready, and quicken their pace. He wanted to reach the gates of Winterfell before the hour was passed. So with a nod his oldest friend turned and rode back towards their party, barking orders for everyone to make ready. While he did that, jon turned and asked Ryon to ride ahead, and relay a message to King Eddard.

“Tell him we will soon be there, that we eagerly await to share in his hearth and home and that at last, after so long, fire and ice shall come together.

 

**xXx**

 

**THE PRINCE OF WINTERFELL**

 

In his dreams he had seen this image more times than he could remember. The gates of Winterfell opening wide, and the wolves playing host to a swell of dragons. For so long Bran had sought to discover the meaning of his dreams, now he sees them for what they are.

Glimpses, glimpses into the future itself.

He cannot remember when they first started, but he could recall how utterly frightened he was the first time the dreams came. He woke up to a world, cold and devoid of all life. The walls of his family’s home all but withered away by the cold, the trees and grass all wilted away to absolutely nothing; and not a living soul to be found no matter how hard he looked. What he did find was something straight out of the tales old nan use to tell him. Men, or what looked like men, with skin white as snow, and eyes blue like frost. They rode atop spiders that were as large as horses, and the dead walked alongside them. He woke up in his room screaming and crying out for his mother and father that night.

The next happened a year later. Instead of a cold and dead world, he was stranded in a world that was on fire. He watched in horror as great cities, made like no other he had ever seen in his entire life, were being consumed by flames. People were burning alive, others jumping from roofs and balconies and plummeting to their deaths. And in the sky, Bran watched as dragons, yes dragons, were also incinerated by the fires themselves. The sight of a dragon burning away till nothing but charred bone remained is not something one forgets anytime soon. Shortly after he awoke to the maester looking over him. Apparently he had been asleep for a full day, having passed out in the training yard the day prior. Bran didn’t understand what was happening, but it frightened him to no end.

Then came the third dream, one so terrifying that Bran thought himself trapped in a living hell. It was a great battle that he saw, one between the living and the dead. There were the spiders feasting on horses, direwolves tearing the walking corpses to pieces, giants and mammoths storming the battlefield, men and women fighting side by side against the hordes of the undead. The sky was filled with the screeching of dragons, and fire was raining down on everyone’s heads like drops of rain. It was too horrible to bear witness to. Then, at that very moment, he caught sight of something that seemed completely out of place here. A crow, hanging on the edge of a dead tree branch, with nary a care to be had. For some reason, Bran felt as though there was something different about this bird, something almost unnerving if he was to be honest.

Then suddenly it turned his head at him, and revealed to him that it had...a third eye.

Bran awoke at that moment, screaming as loud and as long as his lungs were capable of. His mother managed to calm him down by pulling him into her arms, and speaking soothing words to him. Finally, after a time, he had managed to calm himself down. It was then that he noticed that they were not alone. Not only was his mother here with him, but Maester Luwin, and a strange little man who sat quietly over in the corner. He would later learn that the man was in fact Howland Reed, one of his father’s oldest and closest of friends. It was he who had helped Bran awaken from his sleep, a sleep the young prince learned had lasted for a full turn of the moon. This was beginning to scare not only Bran, but his parents as well. They soon feared the day would come when he would never awake, and they would lose him forever.

That was where Howland Reed came in.

The crannogmen had long held the gift of the greensight, as many called it, Howland himself was rumored to have great powers that did not belong in this time and era. It was for this very reason that he was called upon by the King and Queen. Not only for his abilities, but to help Bran gain control over these dreams, to help protect him from himself.

So it was, for the next year Howland remained within Winterfell’s halls, a most welcomed guest, and teacher for the young prince. Lessons taught under the shade of the godswood, where they could feel their gifts at their strongest, there under the ever watchful gaze of the old gods.

In time, bran came to not only control the dreams, but to summon them at will. Now he was able to walk amongst the dreams, control them as he saw fit, and see whatever it was that he so desired. And even with all this great developments, there was still so much that he had to learn. Hence why he was so adamant about traveling to the isle of faces. It was his hope that he could sharpen his gifts, and grow stronger. For it was that ever in the back of his mind, there was this sense of foreboding that would never leave.

There was a reason for his gifts, a reason he, from all his siblings, was given such powers. And Bran was determined to discover the reason for it.

But all that would have to wait for now. Because now, there was something even more pressing occurring in the halls of winter.

His cousin Jon was finally arriving.

Ryon had rode in hard, him and his horse both seemingly near out of breath. He informed Bran’s father that the imperial party would be here within the hour, and so the whole of the castle hurried to make ready for their guests. A vanguard had been dispatched to help guide their imperial friends safely into their home, and while they were doing that, Bran and his brother and sister were being made ready for their impending arrival. By the time the servants were finished, Bran looked every bit the northern prince he was meant to be. The same could be said for his brother and sister. Rickon was younger, and thus more energetic, but was easier to control. Arya on the other hand, by the gods, one would think they were asking her to bathe in boiling oil when she was presented with her new gown. It had taken their mother days prior to convince her to wear the dress, an argument Arya had only given up on when their father had finally spoken with her. Of all their siblings, none was more loved by the king in the north than Arya was. It wasn’t meant to be a cruel fact to him and his siblings, it just was what it was.

Then again, Bran was his mother’s favorite, so perhaps that’s why it didn’t bother him as much.

Once they were all dressed and properly groomed, the three siblings had come down to join their mother and father, along with the rest of the household, and visiting lords in waiting for the Targaryen party to arrive.

Cutting through the air like a knife, a warning horn sounded out loud, signaling to all of the imminent arrival of their guests. Bran and the others watched as one by one soldiers entered through their gates, Stark, Manderly, and Targaryen men all side by side. Two liters passed through into the castle, where soldiers quickly positioned themselves in defensive positions in front of the first of the two. Bran took note that the litter those soldiers were protecting as the sigil of House Targaryen etched into the door, which revealed to him the occupants that dwelled inside.

It was then that a new chorus of horns began to sound out.

The Targaryen men all snapped to attention, spears and shields at their sides as they all gazed to the gates, where passing through was a man in a mix of red and black clothing,, atop a dark gray horse.

“Is that him? Is that the prince?” Arya had whispered just a little too loudly.

Bran shook his head no, and pointed to the black dragon upon the man’s doublet.

“That’s the Black Dragon of House Blackfyre. They are a cadet branch of house Targaryen, and among their most loyal of bannermen.” Bran explained to his sister. “Besides, he doesn’t look anything like what Jon is suppose to look like. He’s suppose to look like his mother the High Queen, not his father.”

Arya nodded in understanding, while their mother glanced over to them, and gave a look that told them to be quiet.

Once Lord Blackfyre had come to a stop, that was when he appeared. A striking figure in black, with a white cloak draped from his shoulders, he could tell without even knowing it, that this man was their cousin Jon. And alongside him rode in their Uncle Benjen, a warm and familiar face that had not changed at all since last they saw one another.

It was here that his father finally acted. Breaking away from the rest of them, he approached Prince Jon as he was dismounting from his stead, Ser jory and Ser Rodrik flanking either side of him. In response, Lord Blackfyre, and what looked to Bran’s own eyes to be one of the tallest men he’d ever seen took similar positions at either side of his cousin. But the prince seemed to not feel as worried as they did, for he gestured for them to wait, and then he was escorted by Uncle Benjen to father. Once they were but feel from each other, Uncle Benjen made the proper introductions for him.

“Your grace, my brother, It give me the greatest of honors to introduce you to our nephew.” Benjen spoke with pride in his voice as he continued. This is Prince Jonarys of the House Targaryen, son of our beloved sister Lyanna, son of the High King himself, newly named Lord of Dragonstone, and our blood. I pray that my King will be as welcoming to him and his own, as we have been. That he would open his hearth and his heart to Prince Jonarys, and welcome him as one of our own. As a Stark of Winterfell.

There was a period of silence after that, not a word was to be uttered as the King in the North observed his nephew. His father took in the young prince with his King’s face, studying him, taking in every detail of his appearance with care. Meanwhile their cousin looked back with all the confidence and reservation of a seasoned warrior, showing no hint of emotion, or giving away anything he might be feeling then.

After a while more, King Eddard finally broke the silence as he spoke directly to Prince Jonarys.

“It fills me with great pride to see you finally after all these years Jon.” The King said. “So long as I am King in the North, you and your shall always be welcome here. So please, come and embrace me my boy, for I fear I am unable to hold myself back any further.”

A ghost of a smile began to spread over their cousin’s face as he stretched out his arms and accepted the King’s embrace, both holding onto the other tightly, as though this was both their first, and last time. Once they had finished, father turned and addressed everyone present.

“We welcome the arrival of Prince Jonarys, son of my sister Lyanna. He shall be welcomed here for all time as both friend, and family!”

Then all at once everyone broke out into excited cheers and roars of celebration. The prince’s party also reciprocated this gesture, and began clapping and cheering right alongside the northmen. It was at this moment that the Prince finally spoke up.

“My uncle, noble King Eddard of the House Stark, you honor me greatly with your acceptance of me, and your warmth and welcome for me and mine. I pray that we may always remain as we are now, for as long as our houses both shall stand.”

“By the old gods, let it be so.”

There were smiles and laughing all around, as one by one, Jon was introduced by father to his lords and ladies of the north. Each greeted Jon in their own way, the Greatjon almost blowing the prince’s ears out with his loud and hearty bellows. Then came time for them to be properly introduced. Mother greeted him as though he were one of her own, Rickon was strangely less excited as he usually was, perhaps intimidated by this dark stranger? And Arya, well she was just filled with questions for their cousin.

“Where are your dragons?” she had asked without hesitation. “I heard you flew to Westeros on the backs of great dragons. Did you bring them with you?”

“Arya!”

They both looked to see mother almost red in embarrassment. Father and several of the other lords seemed more amused than embarrassed. A few chuckles could be heard, and this caused his sister to look down at her feet in embarrassment at what she had said. But Jon came to her rescue then, when he answered her back.

“This is true.” He said to the shock of many present. “We did indeed arrive at Dragonstone on our dragons, but they remained behind on the island, which was for the best I believe.”

Arya looked like she was glowing at Jon’s words. She fired off a dozen more to him: what they were called, how big they were, how fast, how long he had been riding them, and so many more. Finally father had to interrupt her by introducing their cousin to Bran at last. Unlike his sister, Bran was far more reserved, extending his hand out to Jon, and pleasantly greeting him.

“It is a pleasure to meet you at long last cousin.” Bran said. “You have had us all excited with this visit of yours.”

“You all honor me with how welcome you have been to me.” Jon replied. “I almost feel embarrassed with how easily you all have welcomed me into your lives.”

“We are family cous. And family will always stick together, no matter what.”

He saw in his cousin’s eyes then, a strange look of longing appear and then disappear just as quickly. He would have normally asked, but given their circumstances at the moment, he knew that it would be most inappropriate of him. So he would speak with Jon on such matters later.

Finally, once all the introductions were done with, Jon said that he now had someone he wished to introduce to us. Walking over to the litter, he stood by the entrance as the door opened, and out stepped the most amazing thing Bran had ever seen in his life. Almost every pair of eyes there was lost in wonder at what they were seeing, a vision of silver, dressed in vermillion, and draped in white furs that nearly matched the color of her hair. A woman so inhumanly beautiful, for a moment Bran though he was gazing upon the Maiden from the gods of his mother’s faith. A sentiment shared by most of the men present he imagined. The goddess offered her hand to Jon, and he took it with such gentleness and care, raising it up to his lips and placing a chaste kiss upon the back. Once he had helped her out of the litter, he escorted her over to Father and the rest of us, and introduced her as his wife.

“King Eddard, Queen Catelyn, It gives me the greatest pleasure to introduce to you my wife, Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen, Lady of Dragonstone, and my greatest love.”

The princess looked almost red with embarrassment, but seemed to push it aside as she held out a hand to the King in the North, who gracefully accepted it and killed the back of it quickly; while she curtsied to him. Then she turned and curtsied to mother by herself, and quickly rose back up before another word was spoken.

“Your graces, thank you, from the bottom of my heart thank you, for opening your home to my husband and I, and for all the warmth and affection you have shown here this day.”

Mother and father quickly returned the favor, by way of welcoming here, and embracing her as they had Jon earlier, welcoming here to their home and to their family. Bran and Rickon both looked especially pleased at the Princess, while Bran was lost in deep thought. From the moment he laid eyes upon her, something besides her enchanting beauty caught his attention. It was like something out of a dream, one fro so far back he could remember scarce anything about it. Still, the more he looked at her, the more that feeling kept gnawing at the back of his mind.

Silver and Vermillion, those colors, for some reason they invoked something in him. And the more he thought about it, the more he felt a need to know why.

But for now, that would have to wait. For now was a time of celebrating.

And there was still plenty of celebrating yet to come.

 

**xXx**

 

**THE LADY OF DRAGONSTONE**

 

“To the Dragons!”

“To the Wolves!”

The cheers rang out all through the great hall as men and women alike toasted Daenerys and the rest of their party. The feasting had begun shortly after they had all been properly introduced to one another, and they had finished settling into their rooms. The King and Queen escorted Jon and herself respectively towards the great hall. What awaited them was a feast fit for what seemed like a thousand men. The finest food to be found in the kingdom was made ready for Daenerys and Jon, and imported all the way from the Reach they found incredible fruits and wines had also been set aside for them. Once everyone had been seated, King Eddard offered a few words of praise and gratitude to everyone who joined them that evening, and then the feasting began.

Seated at the high table alongside her and her husband, Daemon and his sister, as well as the lord and lady Velaryon sat alongside them, mirror opposite from the Starks who all sat to across from the Targaryen party. Seated right across from each other, her Jon and his uncle spoke eagerly with one another, taking as much time as they could to get to know one another better. While Daenerys occupied herself by conversing with the Lady Daemona and Queen Catelyn over her initial impression about Winterfell.

Daenerys had simply become enamored with the place, it was like no castle she had ever seen before. And she had been born and raised in Summerhall, the grandest castle in the east. But there was something about Winterfell that she felt was so different from anything she could recall seeing. Maybe it was the strong and sturdy walls, cold and dark, seemingly capable of withstanding any siege for untold amounts of time? Or perhaps it was the splendor of the godswood, their heart tree a grand reminder of Lyanna’s very own. And of course, there was the warmth felt throughout every room in the castle. Queen Catelyn explained to Daenerys how Winterfell was built over hot springs, and how those springs fed heat into the walls, warming up the castle from within. Like blood in a man’s body.

She would be the first to admit that she had reservations about their coming here to the North. Fears that they would be walking straight into danger, into the mouth of the wolf. But for Jon’s sake, she remained calm and supportive to him. Nothing could have pleased her more than to find that the Starks had been everything that Jon had hoped for them to be. And more than she expected them to be.

Even now she could recall Arya escorting her through the glass garden, showing off the beauty of the Winter Roses to Daenerys and her ladies. All the while the young princess was so full of questions for her.

“I heard there are dozens of dragons back at Summerhall.” Arya said. “So many in fact that they blot out the sun when they fly together. Some call it the new Valyria, right here in the modern world.”

“Oh do they?” Daenerys asked her with a smile on her face.

“Oh yes indeed, they say Summerhall is the most amazing place in all of Essos.” Arya repeated what she had heard others gossiping about. “Is it truly such an amazing place?”

Dany wasn’t sure how to answer her then. At one time, she would have sang praises of her home for as long as she was able. But now things had changed, now Summerhall felt like a deep wound that would never quite heal. To think on it filled her with a sense of sadness, and anger, both at the same time. So instead, she just nodded and told Arya that it was.

“When I was just a little girl, Summerhall felt more like a castle straight out of one of my brother’s stories he would tell me.” Daenerys told her. “It was the most beautiful place in the world to me.”

Though to be honest, that last bit wasn’t necessarily true. To Daenerys, her and Jon’s hidden lake was the most wonderful place in the world for her. Their hidden oasis where none knew about it, save for them alone.

She was brought back to the present when Queen Catelyn asked a question of Daenerys.

“I’m sorry, what was that you said your grace?” Dany asked the Queen.

“I said, I do hope you are settling in nicely dear.” Catelyn said to her with a touch of motherly concern. “Both here and back at Dragonstone. I know better than most how difficult such changes in one's life can be. After all, when compared to the Riverlands, the North seems an entirely different world at first. I can only imagine how having to relocate from the imperial capital to Westeros must be affecting you dear.”

“Yes, I admit it is taking some time to get use to.” She told Catelyn. “But I find that anywhere can be home for me, so long as Jon and I are together.”

A smile formed on her face as he hand came under the table to take hold of her husband’s. He didn’t need to have to look at her, and his hand gently took hers into his own, his thumb stroking her fingers one after the other. Even more than their large declarations of love for each other, it was the small things she found that would always convey to one another their love. Something that Queen Catelyn took note of, despite not actually seeing anything.

“I know exactly how you feel.” The older Queen told her with a smile. “After so many years of a happy life together, I can say without a doubt that there is no one else I would share my life with than my husband.”

Daenerys nodded in agreement with her then. Before she could reply back, the music took on a faster beet, and people began to clap and cheer as they made their way to the center of the hall; to begin the dance. She watched then as both Jon and King Eddard stood and offered their hands to her and the queen respectively. As they descended down from the table, their husbands surprised the ladies by swapping partners, leaving Jon to lead his aunt in the first dance, and Daenerys with the King in the North.

As they danced to the music, Daenerys took the opportunity to get a real good look at King Eddard. Older, and seemingly more worn than was expected of a man his age, Daenerys could not get over how similar her husband and his uncle were in comparison to each other. The Stark blood ran strongly through their veins, a trait that seemed to only be present in the youngest daughter of the King and Queen. Apparently the rest of their family took after their mother, favoring the Tully eyes and hair to the Stark’s own.

“I hope you are enjoying yourself this evening Princess.” King Eddard said to her.

“Oh, quite so your grace. Yes, I am finding myself enjoying our stay here immensely.” She replied back. “Jon has waited a very long time to be here, to meet all of you, and you have shown yourselves to be everything that he had ever hoped for.”

The King’s brow dropped a little at her words.

“Ever hoped for us to be? Was there ever any doubt to him about how we would treat him? What he expected us to be?”

She could see the concern this was bringing to the King in the North, so she readied herself for the long explanation that was to follow.

“Be at peace your grace, his concerns had little and nothing to do with you or yours.” Daenerys explained. “What worried him was merely our own experience with our own family members.”

King Stark listened in great interest as Daenerys began to explain to him of the...complicated, family dynamics that made up house Targaryen. She explained to him that the worries that Jon held were not for anything he had heard about the Starks, but rather his own worries that he would make a poor impression to his mother’s family. Very few members of their house were able to stand each and every one of the other members, often times each fell into their own camp, defined by the parent they were born to. So while Jon was more closely tied to his mother Lyanna and his father Rhaegar, Aegon and Rhaenys mostly were more comfortable in each others company. While poor Viserys, the lout that he was, thought of himself as an island unto himself, needing nothing from anyone as the last born son of a true dragon, unlike Jon and Aegon who were born with mixed blood from their mothers.

King Ned took all this in, and his mood seemed to grow downcast with every word Daenerys spoke.

“I had no idea,” he told her. “Lyanna never spoke of such division in her letters, far and few between though they may have been. I cannot believe Jon was raised in such an environment.”

Daenerys supposed to Ned that such disunity among family would appear a very queer thing to behold. After all, just one night here and any could see that the strength of House Stark was in its unity. During her studies, while preparing for their arrival, Daenerys recalled reading a quote from a maester regarding the Starks of Winterfell. It was something that he wrote down to explain the mentality of their house.

_When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives._

Those words burned a place into her soul when she read them. She knew then and there that the Starks would be unlike any noble house she had ever come across before. She could glimpse a small taste of why this was so important to her husband, why he so wanted to be accepted by his mother’s kin.

_“He has me, but still hopes for other kin we can rely on when needed. Family for our children to one day know, to laugh and play with in gay abandon. This is what my Jon wants most.”_

“Please worry not, noble King in the North.” Daenerys told him with a gentle smile. “I know Lyanna. If she did not disclose such matters it was because she did not think you needed to worry about them." When he still looked unsure, she continued. "This news might seem troubling at first, but in truth I think it does more good for us than anything else.”

At this, the King in the North looked absolutely puzzled. So she quickly dispelled such confusion with her words.

“House Targaryen has often been defined by internal conflict, mine and my husband's situation is just another example in a long history of such squabbles.” She explained. In essence, our exile has all but cut us off from the rest of our family. Aside from Queen Lyanna, most likely the rest will look upon us as dead to them. So this makes it far easier for Jon and I to open our hearts to the Starks, and feel no guilt of betrayal as well.”

She watched as his Stark gray eyes were filled with understanding, and saw a sense of relief flash acros them for a moment. If she did not know any better, Daenerys might suspect that he was as nervous of making a good impression to Jon as Jon was to him. The similarities between uncle and nephew continued to pile up in her mind, in an almost ridiculous manner. The more she thought about it, the more he began to remind her more and more about Jon. By Balerion, they almost looked the same. Were she not well aware of who Jon’s father was, she could almost be forgiven for thinking that his uncle could have been the one to sire the new lord of Dragonstone.

As the music died down, the princess and King bowed to each other as the dance’s end, and then both left to return to the high table, where Queen Catelyn and Jon had returned to just minutes prior to the dance's end. What they found awaiting them was Arya and Rickon firing away a thousand questions that came through their minds at Jon, and him trying his best to answer them.

“How many dragons do you have?” Arya asked in wonder.

“Which one is the biggest?” Rickon questioned.

“What is your dragon named?” Arya pressed.

“Have you ever flown on dragon back into battle before?” Rickon continued.

“What does it feel like to fly through the air?”

Seeing Jon had little chance to answer their questions between each one asked, Daenerys decided to answer that last one herself.

“There are no words to describe the feeling of soaring through the skys.”

The young prince and princess abandoned their interrogation of her husband, and turned to Daenerys. She now had their complete attention.

“Is it really so grand?” Arya’s excitement was almost as charming as the excited look that graced her face.

“Yes it is,” Daenerys explained to them. “There’s this moment of fear that wells up inside of you the moment the dragon spreads its wings out. It grows for a few moments more as you feel their legs preparing to push off against the ground. But once that moment passes, once your shooting up into the air, your feel like your more than human. You feel like you're entering a world that no one else can reach. Someplace sacred that only a select few can ever reach. It’s a feeling that is so unlike anything else you could possibly imagine.”

She watched as both of their faces glowed with sheer excitement at Daenerys’ explanation. Though for her, it was the look that Jon gave her that was melting her heart. He looked so relieved, so happy to see her getting along with the Starks like he hoped she would. They would both have much to speak about later that night, but for now they were content to share in the merriment that filtered all throughout the great hall.

Before Arya and Rickon could ask any more questions, the King and Queen in the North shooed them off, asking that they see to their guests, and to give the royal couples a moment alone with each other.

Joining Jon on his side of the table, he gently took her hand into his when she sat next to him, and pressed a chaste kiss on the back of it. A small gesture of affection to be sure, but from a man like Jon it meant far more to her.

After a few moments of hushed words between each other, their hosts addressed them.

“So Jon, daenerys, I pray you tell us that Winterfell has been everything that you have hoped for.” King Eddard asked, his own eyes hopeful and filled with worry at the same time. Jon was quick to dispel any worries that may have troubled the King.

“Uncle words cannot begin to describe the way that I feel.” Jon answered him with such honesty. “Your land, your people, your home, and your family, they are all far more than I ever hoped they would be. From the moment I stepped foot in these halls, I felt a sort of peace wash over me, a calmness I was unable to determine where it came from. But now I know what it is.”

He looked at Daenerys and smiled. “It’s belonging. A feeling that I have only every experienced one before, with my wife.”

His words, and the sincerity in his eyes, they caused her beautiful pale skin to flush red in embarrassment at the sudden bit of flattery.

He then turned back and spoke to their hosts. “Thank you...Uncle, thank you for opening your home and your hearts to us.It is a debt that I swear to one day pay in full by words or by steel, I will repay this great debt to you and yours one day. On this you have my word.”

It was then that Daenerys saw a look flash across both the King and Queen in the North’s faces, something akin to excitement, or perhaps waiting would be better to describe it. They looked to each other, and then spoke to Jon and Daenerys both.

“Well nephew,” King Ned began, “If that is truly how you feel, then there might be a matter that you could possibly aid us in.”

Something didn’t feel right at that moment to Denerys. From under the table she gave Jon’s hand a slight squeeze, conveying her concern to him, but he in turn gently stroked hers, his signal to calm down and now overreact just yet. When her husband nodded at his uncle to continue, the King in the North explained further on what he was meaning.

“As much as this was all to celebrate you and yours arrival Jon, I confess there was an ulterior motive for throwing such a celebration. One that I pray you will listen to, and see why such subterfuge was necessary.

In a split second, Jon had discarded his face that he reserved for his friends and family, and quickly assumed his lord’s face, nodding in acceptance of the King’s request.

Daenerys knew that the time for celebrating was now officially done with. Now was the time to speak of matters of state, of the future.

Time now to know of the contest that all rulers here played called the Game of Thrones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heartfelt reunions and meetings.
> 
> Cryptic dreams of battle long pass and yet to be
> 
> Secrets hidden by the King in the North.
> 
> Jon and Daenerys' introduction to the Game of Thrones.
> 
> What could possibly happen next?
> 
> Find out next time on the next exciting installment of Come the Dragons!


	5. Note

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notice about this story: DO NO PANIC!! I AM NOT QUITTING!!!

To all my fans, I apologize profusely for my absence of late.

 

Over the past few months I have been stricken with several series of events that have left me quite low into depression I fear.

First I lost my grandfather and uncle in as many weeks from each other.

Then I was fired from my job because some customers heard me talking, and took offense at things said that were out of context, and tried to label me as a racist.

And then and then and then, it just kept on piling on top of me one after the other.

I try when I can two work on this story, I have no intention to quit, but...it's just going to take time.

I need to rediscover my passion for writing, recover from this depressed state, deal with other anxiety issues and what not.

And once I have, I promise I will return to you all as strong as I ever was.

I thank you all for your patience, and promise that I will return to write again, but until then to be patient please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be back!


	6. The Alliance of Ice and Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truths are revealed, plans are made, and love makes itself known in the halls of the Winter Kings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, you are not imagining things. After a lengthy absence, I am back and am better than ever, and with a new chapter for your viewing pleasure. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone for all their support for me during this trying time in my life. You guys really did make all the difference.
> 
>  
> 
> WARNING: XXX at the end, so consider yourselves warned.

**V.**

**xXx**

 

**THE WHITE PRINCE**

 

Long after they had retired to the sanctity of the King’s solar, the sounds of merriment could still be heard even this far away from the dining hall. When his Uncle had requested for Jon to join him in his solar, the exiled prince had begun to worry that he had misjudged his Uncle entirely. Which only gave him more relief when his fears were dissipated by King Ned’s explanation for all the secrecy.

“I apologize for the vagueness of such secrecy Jon.” Ned apologized to him. “But I assure you, the sensitive nature of what I am about to discuss calls for it.”

Seated opposite his uncle, a cup of the Umber’s famous mead in his hand, Jon listened intently to what the King in the North had to tell him.

“It shames me to admit it, but I did indeed have ulterior motives for summoning you here to Winterfell. And as such, I apologize for such a deception.”

The Lord of Dragonstone merely nodded, and gestured for the King to continue.

“Go on Uncle.”

“Very well.” Ned began. “In the past year, there has been a rebellion brewing here in the North. An insurrection led by the Lord of the Dreadfort, Lord Roose Bolton, against me and my family.” Jon listened intently as his Uncle continued to explain the situation. “What you first need to understand Jon, is that we Starks had long warred against the Boltons since all the way back during the dawn age. For many many years, my father, his father, and his father before him have faced the likes of the Boltons in many ages, and in many forms. Much blood had been spilled between out too houses...perhaps too much for there to ever be any real chance of peace. For despite mercy shown, and oaths of fealty sworn, the flayed man continues to threaten the Wolves of Winterfell. I was truly hopeful that there might be true peace between our houses one day, that Lord Bolton and I might end the long standing feud once and for all. Sadly, I fear I misjudged the kind of man Roose Bolton was.”

The Boltons, a name that Jon knew very well, despite having never met them himself. As a boy, eager for tales of the lands of his mother and her fathers, the High Queen had dazzled her little princeling with the haunted tales of the Red Kings of House Bolton. Of the men who would flay their enemies skin off their bones, hang them like portraits to decorate their halls, and for some deplorable members, even wear the skin of their defeated foes. For nigh on a year hence, little Jon was beside himself with fear, swearing to Vhagar that Bolton Skinwalkers were going to peel off his skin. When he had shared such tales with the other royal children, Daenerys, Aegon, even stoic Rhaenys began to see sharp knives in every shadow of Summerhall. Finally King Rhaegar himself put an end to such tales, having grown quite tired of seeing the children too scared to leave their rooms at night.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of my beloveds.” The High King told them in his soft voice. “It is only a tale, a tale from lands far far away from our own. I promise you, there is nothing you need fear from the Boltons.”

Jon smiled to recall such a memory. If he closed his eyes then and there, he could still feel his father's soft hand cupping the side of his face, hear his disarming voice send all fear running out of his body. To Jon, his father was like a god to him.

The perfect king.

Then again, he supposed his cousins believed the same of their father as well. Most children would probably claim their parents to be great and infallible in their eye.

“We have been in Westeros for several moons uncle.” Jon told Ned. “During out time on Dragonstone no word reached us that there was any sort of conflict brewing in the North. Trust in me when I say that if my whisperer had heard anything about a rebellion happening in the North, I would have been informed.”

“Then praise is needed to my men,” his uncle said. “For it was at my strictest request that no information leak outside of these lands.”

Hmm, it would seem that Jon and the Spider would need to have a talk when he returned to Dragonstone. He’d need to remind himself to have Daemon send word to the spymaster as soon as he could. Meanwhile, he gestured for the King in the North to explain his story.

“It could not be helped. I feared that if word reached any of our enemies that there was turmoil here in the North, they might see this as an opportunity and launch new offenses against us. My kingdom could not bear the strain of waging a war on two fronts as we are now.”

“But it isn’t just on two fronts, is it uncle?”

Ned shook his head no which earned a confused look from the young prince.

“From the east the Boltons threaten, then from North beyond the wall a wildling horde has managed to make it’s way south into the gift. Despite my family’s attempts to better garrison the Wall, there is still only so much we were able to do. It no longer stands the grand order it once was like the halcyon days of our founder Brandon the Builder, when the Night’s Watch was an honorable order of brothers. Now maybe half the man on the Wall are capable soldiers, the rest criminals from Westeros and outcasts with no place to go.”

There was a sadness in his uncle’s tone as he spoke of the Wall, and the Night’s Watch. He could hear the regret in every word spoken The longing to do more.

“In my youth, I dreamed of one day restoring the Watch back to its former glory, made plans to speak with my father and brother after his marriage to Cat on restoration. But then what are the plans of men, if not but entertainment for the gods? My vision of a restored Night’s Watch was not to be.”

Jon nodded, and sipped from his mead before asking his uncle a question.

“There is something I still do not understand Uncle?”

“What be that Jon?”

“I understand the conflict raging between you and the Boltons, but still do not comprehend you need for secrecy. What need have you, the King in the North, to use a banquet and celebration for subterfuge?”

“To see where loyalties lie.”

Ah, now he understood. Now Jon knew why his Uncle had invited him and his clan to Winterfell, threw them this marvelous banquet, invited all the lords in his realm to attend. He wanted to see who would come, and who would spur the invitation. As he recalled, most of the great houses of the North were in attendance, all but a few small houses could not attend, and he recalled maybe one or two who sent envoys in their stead. With war on the horizon, this was an important time to discover where everybody’s loyalties truly lay. Either to their King, or to the would-be-usurper Roose Bolton.

An impressive deception, one Jon himself might have thought of in a similar situation. Seems he and his Uncle Ned shared more in common than just features and dispositions.

“I apologize for misleading you and yours Jon, but I had to know.”

“And now you do.”

“Yes,” he let out a sigh as he shook his head. When Jon offered him some of his drink, the King in the North politely declined, instead choosing to stand and cross the room to stand before a large map of the Kingdom of the North.

“I know now for sure who my loyal lords are, those here this night. What troubles me are those who did not arrive themselves. It is those whose loyalty I must now bring into question. Houses Karstark, Dustin, and Whitehill.”

Jon rose to join his uncle over by the large map upon the wall.

“From what I know of northern houses, the Whitehills are generally bannermen of the Boltons so there is no real surprise there.”

Ned agreed as Jon continued. “Karstark and Dustin are surprise choices though. I recall hearing of their late lord being a friend of yours and my mothers. And the Karstark are kin to the Starks no less.” He looked to his uncle and asked him how he could suspect them of treason.

“The Dustins are bound in blood to the Boltons by Lady Dustin’s sister. Her nephew is Domeric Bolton, son and heir to Roose Bolton. In these lands Jon, honor runs deep, but blood runs even deeper. If the Boltons raise their banners against us, the Dustins might find themselves pulled into siding against us in the conflict. In addition, Lady Barbrey and her young son sent only an envoy to attend, begging forgiveness and blaming the absence on the young lord’s health.”

Jon nodded his head in understanding.

“The Karstarks are a harder truth to swallow, but my suspicions about them have been roused too much for me to ignore it out of hand. Be they kin to us or not, we Starks are no strangers to our blood turning their cloaks against us. Was House Greystark that taught this lesson to the Starks of their time, when they chose to join the Boltons in rebellion against their rightful King. The Starks of Winterfell showed the North then and there the price of betrayal, and wiped out the Greystarks down to the last man, woman, and child. A darker chapter of our past, and one I fear Lord Rickard Karstark has only too easily chosen to forget. Was his daughter and Castellan who chose to attend, not the father nor his two sons. As much as I wish to ignore such suspicions, in my heart I know that there is treachery here.”

It all made sense now, every piece of the puzzle fit in perfectly with what Jon had been told, and what he had figured himself.

“But even more than that Uncle, you needed to take this opportunity to not only assess your allies and enemies, but you also wanted to assess me and my own...didn’t you?”

Turning to look to his sister’s son, the King in the North could do not lie, and nodded his head in acknowledgement.

“I needed to know if you were someone I could count on. Someone who could help me win this war.”

“What I fail to understand Uncle, is why bother with me at all? The full might of the Northern Kingdom is more than a match for your rivals no? Even then you have soldiers ready to fight down south of the Neck in the Riverlands also. So help me understand why you need my help at all?”

Ned shook his head no at Jon’s question. “The armies of the Riverlands must remain there as a counter from any possible incursions from the southern kingdoms. If I were to deplete the Tully strength to help deal with this conflict here, it would very well cost us the Riverlands. And besides, there are those among the Riverlords that I do not put much hope in actually answering the summons to war.”

“And the Arryns?” Jon asked. “I heard it said you and the Falcon King were close in your youth. A second father some might say.”

“Aye, we were. But King Jon Arryn has left this life for the seven heavens, and now two would-be kings battle for his throne. Such is a land I do not feel wise to reach out to for help at the moment, less we ourselves become embroiled in their conflict as well. I face a rebellion in mine own lands already, I have no intention of dragging my people into the midst of such a dispute in the Eyrie.”

“But surely the Gardners are allies you might call upon to fight with you should you need the aid. After all, the Gardner King’s heir is married to your eldest daughter is he not? Is my cousin Sansa not to be the Queen of the Reach one day?”

“Yes, Prince Willas would gladly send aid if called upon. His father King Mace is another matter entirely. He is not the sort to charge out his front gates with so many enemies awaiting him.” Ned spoke frankly. “The Westerlands and the Dornish threaten the Reach, and as mighty as their armies are, King Mace is not to risk fighting with a lion, only for a snake to bite him from behind. By the time help arrived our fighting would probably be over, or their numbers too greatly depleted. So while kin they are, they are not kin we can depend on.”

“But I am?” Jon questioned.

“Your more than that Jon, you are the solution to all our troubles.” directing him back to the map, Ned began to explain his plan to him. “The Dustins lay to the west, the Boltons and Karstarks to the East, the Manderly fleet sails to deal with reavers on bear island and the Stony Shore, while Robb and his men fight the Wildling invasion at the wall. We are stretched too thin, barely able to gather two, maybe three thousand men to defend ourselves with. All the rest of our manpower dispersed where it is needed for the moment. Now forgive my bluntness nephew, but your military prowess is well known, even here in these part of the world. You and your men that came with you, if you could add your strength, you experience and skill to our numbers, then I have no doubt that this rebellion will be squashed within the setting of the next new moon.”

Jon had to admit, his uncle seemed to have figured everything out. On quill it sounded like the logical strategy. Employing a fighting force like what Jon’s men could provide, those experienced battle-hardened warriors from the east, they could easily turn the tide to the Starks favor. Hell, just the presence of Jon and his men might deter the Bolton’s more fickle allies into standing down entirely. It could work.

Question was, will Jon agree to it.

His uncle and his family had opened their home and their hearts to Jon, treated him as family should, a feeling Jon had long since forgotten almost. As strangers here in this land, making friends with a powerful house like the Starks seemed a simple enough decision to make. After all, when one is alone in the world, it is the wise who turn to their friends for aid. But that being said, there were still other factors to think about.

The men who followed Jon here to Westeros, his brothers in arms, he had sworn to give to them and their loved ones a better life than the ones they left behind. How could he keep such a promise if he was going to just send them off the fight in someone else's war? He couldn’t ask that of them, they had already given up too much for Jon.

So turning his back from his uncle the king, Jon made his way back to the table, and leaned his hands against its wooden surface.

“You realize what you are asking of me uncle?” Jon asked. “What I am to ask of my men, friends and brothers who I have fought beside for many a year. So many of those that came with me did so believing I was leading them into a better world, a better life for them and their families. I...how could I ask such a thing of so many good men?”

Ned could see the anguish such a decision was bringing to Jon. He had not meant to ask so much of his nephew, but without his mens help, the North would bleed and so too might his family. No matter the King in the North’s wishes not to put such a choice before the young prince, he must do what he must for his kingdom, and for his family.

Such was his duty as King.

“Jon,” Ned said gently as his hand gently touched his nephew’s back. “Please do not think me cruel, nor deaf to you and your owns plights. If there was another option before me I would grasp at it with both hands. Yet here I stand, with only one road left open to me.”

Jon heard his uncle’s words, heard the grief in each word spoken. His uncle truly meant what he said. Jon knew that before he even spoke. For such was the type of man that Eddard Stark was. A Kind unto himself.

Despite his Uncle’s insistence at needing Jon’s help, the Lord of Winterfell decided that it was late enough, and that there was much for both of them to think on. So he asked jon that he give it the night to think it over, and let him know his answer sometime on the morrow. Grateful for a chance to retire, Jon bid his uncle goodnight, and was escorted back to his and Daenerys’ rooms. Though far softer than earlier, he could still make out the sound of some guests who were still up for celebrating, even as the rest of the castle slept soundly. The Queen and her children had retired to their rooms, Queen Cat probably still waiting on the King, while his party had all been shown to their rooms as well. Those who were not given one found comfort and rest in the encampments outside of the castle’s walls.

It still amazed Jon somewhat to find himself walking the actual halls of the great castle of Winterfell. The Winterfell that his mother use to regale him about in many a told told amidst candle light. But hearing about a place could not hope to compare with actually seeing it with one's own eyes. But that always amazed him the most, was the warmth that flooded through the castle walls. Hot springs, he had once been told. Built on top of a bed of the pools, their warmth ran through the walls like blood through a man, providing warmth and comfort to generations of his kin’s family, dating back since the days of their founding. And now it provided such luxuries to him and Daenerys both.

Finally arriving at his chambers, he bid his escort farewell before entering to find his still very much awake wife reading near the hearth. Seemed she had been waiting for him all this time.

“Dany, why aren’t you well asleep love? There was no need to wait up so late, tis long past the hour of the wolf by now.”

His silver princess merely smiled at his words and sat the book she was reading down before answering him.

“I return from celebrating to find my husband still in talks with our host. And with so large a bed as ours is, I couldn’t possibly find any rest while my Lord husband was away. So here I waited, knowing sooner or later you would return, and then I would find the rest I desire. Alongside you.”

He couldn’t keep the smile from his lips anymore than he could keep her from crossing the room and kissing him with those perfect lips of hers. By Vhagar this was what he needed, to taste her, breathe in her scent, to drown himself in the drug that was Daenerys Targaryen. With so much on his mind, so much laid at his feet by the man he had waited so long to meet, he just needed a distraction, even for a moment.

His hands traveled from cupping her cheeks, to sliding down her perfect curves, cumming to rest against each cheek before lifting her into his embrace, and leading them both over to the bed, never once breaking contact from her lips. Plopping down on the mattress, Jon continued to pleasure his wife with his mouth, as she soon began with her tongue, eliciting a sudden chill of goose flesh to travel down his arms. But even as he continued to drown himself in the sea he called love, his mind could not help but wander back to what he had learned, and what had been asked of him. Sensing something was bothering him, Dany gently stopped his hands from undressing her, and cupped his cheeks so he would look her straight in the eyes.

“What troubles you my love? Was something said by King Stark the cause of your concern?”

When at first he tried to play it off as nothing, her amethyst eyes glared at him with fire behind them, and he knew that such lies would not work. So instead he opted to tell her the truth, about the situation that the North faced, and what his uncle was asking of them.

Needless to say, she was not pleased.

“He invites you into his home, embraces you like his own son, and all of that was just so he could convince you to fight alongside him in his war?”

“It’s more complicated than that Dany.” Jon tried to explain, but the Princess was not hearing it. Her wrath had been awoken, and she was not likely to stop anytime soon.

“We are strangers in this land, outcasts, forced to leave everything we have ever known behind us, and make home in unknown parts. He knows this, sees what an honorable sort my Jon is, and seeks to take advantage of your good nature for his own gain. This will not stand, it will Not!”

“I tell you beloved, it is not so black and white as you make it out to be.” He took her by the arms and made her look at him this time.

“You did not speak with him Dany, did not hear his words spoken, of the grief and sadness that passed his lips as he asked this of me. If you had been there you would find yourself just as torn as I am.”

“But I wasn’t, and I am not.” she said. She wrapped Jon into her arms and pressed herself against him as tightly as she could. “I won’t let him have you Jon, I will not. I let Rhaegar rip you away from me once already, having to settle for brief moments between the years apart to be with you. But now that we are here, at this point in our lives no longer bound to my brother’s wishes, I must once again watch you march off to battle at the behest of another King? I can’t do it Jon...I...I just can’t.”

By Vhagar Jon Thought, there truly is no other woman in all the realms like Daenerys Targaryen. One moment she breathes fire, then next she weeps like the most vulnerable of child. And he understood her anger very well. This was supposed to be their new life, their second chance. No more court, no more plots and schemes, no more warring for the sake of the imperial machine. That was what she had wanted, what he had wanted, and yet, for gods only know why, he still found himself being drawn into conflict. Is this to be his life? To spend all his days warring from one part of the world to the next? That wasn’t the kind of life Jon desired at all.

Yet he knew that there was no real choice left before him.

If they were to survive here in Westeros, to thrive here, they were going to need friends. And as much as he disliked the idea, he knew what he needed to do to make those relations last.

Breaking free from her warm embrace, he gently took her hands into his and brought them to to his lips, and kissed the back of her hand gently.

“My love, it grieves me to say so, but we both know I have to do this.” She looked ready to argue, but he cut her off before she could. “We need the Starks, need their friendship, their loyalty. If we refuse them then we cut off any hope of creating an alliance, an important one, to help up survive here in Westeros. Without it, it will be us against seven kingdoms beloved.”

“I’d like to see them bare their steel at us with Balerion and Vhagar beside us.”

Jon laughed at Daenerys’ jape. Though still sounding defiant, he knew she understood that this was something Jon needed to do. For them, for their future, for the future they envision for themselves. But that being said, it didn’t mean that Jon was going to just roll over and obey without question.

“They have our swords beloved,” Jon said as he drew her in close, and placed her arms around his neck, and his around her waist. “But tomorrow, they will still have to come to terms with us about the price of such services.” When he said that she flashed him a smile of perfectly white teeth at what he was implying.

“Daenerys my dear, when all this is said and done we might just end up being the ones that end up coming out on top."

He smiled at her as he held her closer to him and then whispered to her.

"In fact this just might end up being the answer to all of our problems.”

 

**xXx**

 

**THE BASTARD OF THE NORTH**

 

The feasting had lasted far longer than had been expected, in no small part to the rivalry struck up between the Lords Umber and Velaryon both. Where others had found common ground to share revelry with one another, the staunchest supporters of the Starks and the Targaryens had chosen to turn to competition between one another. Ryon had long since left the keep before the wine cup war had begun, choosing to enjoy the peace and solitude of the cool night air.The courtyard was left empty due to the feasting, with only the select few guards patrolling the walls. It was in this isolation that the nephew of King Eddard Stark felt the most comfortable.

Growing up beside his cousins and other children from wintertown gave him no shortage of human interaction, yet queer enough to admit he much preferred the solitude of being alone. As a youth he would find a tree, or a tower far removed from the rest, and would make for himself a little hideaway for his own use. Here he would practice by himself, retell stories old nan had told, or read a book that he would “borrow” from the Maester’s study.

Despite his outwardly warm and friendly disposition, Ryon was the type of person to enjoy the silence.

Right now he found himself alone atop the Broken Tower, with none but the stars and the occasional crow to keep him company. Under the starlight, as he helped himself to a bit of wine, he could be heard humming the words to a song under his breath.

_“Farewell my dear, till we meet again.”_

He quickly downed another swig before continuing.

_“In the halls of mine father, and his gentle men.”_

Up above, the nest of crows began to jump from broken beam to broken beam, drawing closer to Ryon below.

_“When suns rise in the west, and set in the east.”_

As he watched the stars shine brightly above him, he could swear that he could see the vision of a fair maid looking down at him. A fetching beauty with eyes like violet fire, who seemed to shed tears from her eyes.

_“When the rich man starve, and the poor man feasts.”_

His hand reached out to the heavens, and stretched as far as they could in a vain attempt to reach her.

_“When I can hold you in my warm hand.”_

His hand still tried stretching out high, but to no avail sadly. And then he watched with tears in his eyes as the visage of the woman faded away like sand blown by the wind.

_“Then, and only then, shall we meet again.”_

The tears we now freely flowing by this point, they always did after that song. A stupid little bard he had heard a couple years ago when he was in  Barrowton. The singer was butchering it so badly that he paid him just to stop singing it. But for some strange reason, despite his dislike of it, the song stayed with him even after all this time.

If asked why, he would be hard pressed to give a solid answer to you, but apparently Ryon once shared a late drink with the lady Wylla at White Harbor, and sang to her the wretched piece of music. To his surprise, she did no hate it. In fact, after hearing it she asked to hear more from him. And he surely would have obliged her, were he not sobering up by then. So as he was not keen on making a bigger fool of himself than he surely had already, he reluctantly declined the Lady’s request. Red in the face at even having sung such a song to her, Ryon would have been quick to run had she not stopped him and asked why he looked so embarrassed.

“Forgive me my lady, but in the midst of mine cups I fear I have made a fool of myself. A fool japing and singing a fools tune no less.”

But despite his thought on the matter, she surprised him, and told him she found his singing quite charming.

“Why do you seem to despise such a lovely song so my dear sir?”

He hadn’t wished to speak on such matters, but when it was just the two of them alone he always felt like he could be honest about these sort of matters. So he spoke to her about the mother he had ever known, of what details the likes of his uncles would tell of her, and of the dreams he was often beset by in the dead of night.

“They say she was both beautiful and kind, a beauty that but comes once in a lifetime to grace the world with her glory.” He explained to her. “My uncle Arthur once told me of how her beauty and kindness was so great, that even the most devout champion of the Durradons was said to have become enamored with her.”

Lady Wylla listened as he spoke of what others had told him about his mother, and of why the song he sung made him so sad.

“Everything I know of her comes from what others have told me,” He explained. “I know nothing else of her save from those who knew her best. I cannot even conjure up an image in mine mind as to what she looked like. Yet all I can hope was that she was everything that others say she was, king and beautiful, and too good for this world of ours.” Lady Wylla could see the sadness covering his face, and how much it hurt him to speak about her. She would have told him to stop, but he continued before she could get a word in.

“That’s why I sing that song, to remind myself that one day I will see my beautiful and kind mother again. I might not know what she looked like now, but I will know her the moment I see her when my time on this earth is over.” He looked over to Wylla and smiled to her. “The song is a promise between myself and her. We _will_ see each other ”

A moment of silence passed between the two of them, then she smiled also to Ryon. Reaching out to him, she gently lifted his wine skin from his hand and took a small swig for herself. Still smiling, she stood where she was and came to rest at Ryon’s side, leaning against his shoulder, and setting the young man’s face aflame.

“My lady!” He all but choked out as she looked up at him with those big beautiful eyes and smiled at him.

“There is no one to see us here Ryon.” She explained sweetly. “My sister and mother rest now in their rooms, and Grandfather has long since slept since the Starks retired for the evening. As for my father, he is more than occupied with cheering on the Greatjon against Lord Velaryon last I saw. So, as you can see there is no need to fret. This won’t turn out to be like White Harbor I promise you.”

Just thinking about the aforementioned incident transformed Ryon’s face from a healthy red to a blazing crimson. It had happened a ear back, just after the bastard of Winterfell had won the joust during the tourney at White Harbor. At the time he had yet to earn his knighthood, so he had joined under the assumed identity of the Knight of the Pale Tree. Now Northern tourneys, are not what one would call grand when compared to their southern counterparts. Ryon himself had see the lengths the southern kings would go in their celebrations during his visits with his uncle Arthur. Compared to them, these northern tourneys were tamed by far. Still, White Harbor had gone all out with what they had to offer, and made sure all enjoyed themselves while guesting in the Manderly’s home.

The last joust had come down to him and Ser Wylis Manderly in the lists. All throughout the tourney Ryon had felt himself being emboldened by the cheers of the crowd. Where once they whispered about this mystery knight, they know shouted in glee and abandon at his victories, one after the other. So emboldened he was that he dared to ask the lady Wylla for her favor before he faced her own father. Which surprised him even more when she tied her green ribbon around his right arm and bid him luck. At that moment, had anyone asked, Ryon felt like he could have faced down a dragon and won. Instead he’d have to settle for defeating Ser Manderly.

The old gods were good to him that day, for after four spears in, finally Ryon managed to break their tie by unhorsing Ser Wylis, and claiming victory in the joust for himself. His favorite moment came when he was handed the wreath of blue winter roses, the crown for the Queen of Love and beauty, and he was quick to name Lady Wylla so, declaring her to be the fairest maiden in all the North, if not all of Westeros. The people of White Harbor roared in cheers at Wylla’s crowning, clapping their hands and stomping their feet so loud that Ryon was certain that they would be heard all the way to the wall, and the neck below. Then came time to unmask himself for all to see, and reality had hit him as though struck by a bolt of lightning. The people would see him for the bastard and not the mystery knight he presented himself, his uncle might be disappointed in his deception, and even worse poor Wylla might be embarrassed by his brazen show of affection to her. When again Lord Manderly asked him to remove his helm, Ryon said a small prayer to the old gods and then removed his helmet for all to see him.

Almost immediately the gasps and whispers began, like a wave going from one side of the stands all the way to the other. Lord Manderly himself seemed blown away with surprise, while Uncle Ned seemed to be taking in Ryon at that moment. When he dared to look to Wylla, he found her cheeks aflame, and her mother and sister whispering to her and holding her hand in efforts to comfort her he supposed. He dared not to look at her longer than he had to, so he broke his gaze away from her and turned back to his uncle and Lord Manderly. To his surprise, he watched as the King in the North rose from his seat, and made his way down to stand before his nephew. Having dismounted his horse, Ryon now stood face to face with his uncle, but still could not bring himself to look him right in the eye. Uncle Ned stood there a few moment in silence, and then gestured for Ryon to look up at him. What he saw when he gazed into King Eddard Stark’s eyes was the very last thing he ever expected to be reflected in those stormy greys.

Pride.

“Well done my boy.” he said to Ryon. “You have done well today.” He turned back to Lord Manderly and inquired about the prize for the joust. “A hundred gold wolves was it my good Lord Wyman?” The positively enormous Lord of White Harbor nodded his head, still Ryon supposed in disbelief at the bastard’s victory. Uncle Ned looked back to him and smiled at his nephew.

“I think we can do one better than that.”

He turned to Uncle Benjen and nodded to him, and he in turn returned the nod before hurrying off to only he knew where. When he returned, he brought with him the ancestral blade of House Stark, Ice, and with reverence, knelt down before his brother and king, and offered him their family blade. Taking the great sword in both hands, Uncle Ned poised the tip to point down at the ground, while both his hands held the handle as he looked down at Ryon.

“Take a knee nephew, and receive your reward.”

Ryon was beside himself, speechless at what was happening in that moment. After a few awkward moments of silence, Ryon finally snapped out of his stupor, and bent down on one knee before his uncle. Then, with what seemed like ease, King Eddard gently tapped each of his shoulders with mighty Ice.

“Young Ryon,” His uncle began. “Do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord, and your king, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?”

Ryon Looked up then to his uncle the King, and so swore to him.

“I do swear, before the eyes of gods and men, and my king!”

This pleased his uncle greatly, then he lifted Ice from Ryon’s shoulder and big him to rise, a knight of the Kingdom of the North.

In that moment all went deaf as the crowds watching broke out into a deafening roar of applause. Be it they were celebrating for Ryon, or simply at the knighting itself meant little to him. This was without question the greatest moment in his life.

That night, all celebrated the knighting of Ser Ryon, the Knight of the Pale Trees. Of course had Robb been there he would have been quick to dismiss such a title, saying that his cousin needed a better name than that.

“You are a Knight now Ryon,” Harwin exclaimed as he shook the bastard's shoulders! “Take pride in what others will call you. For who knows what you might do one day, mayhaps something worthy of song and legend? And who would like to be Known as the Knight of the Pale Trees?”

“Hear hear,” shouted Jory Cassel, a fine a man as any to be found in the North. “We must find you a moniker to truly be worth remembering. Something that all will be awed and inspired by.”

“Something of my own.” Ryon muttered as he took another sip of his ale. For nigh on an hour his friends and others offered suggestion after suggestion for what he should title himself. All sorts ranging from the Star of Winterfell to the Bright Knight, the latter of which came courtesy of a rather drunk Manderly man, and ended with him being tossed out on his bum. Finally Ryon had decided he had been the center of attention long enough, and made his leave, with promises to inform them upon his decision at a later time. Finally alone, Ryon slipped out to the courtyard for some peace and quiet. A wine skin in hand, he made his way to the stables to see his steed. His previous horse had died sadly some time ago, but the old gods seemed to be at work, for shortly after his Horse’s passing he came upon this mighty beauty within the wolfswood. He had saved him from a hungry pack of wolves, small and gangly things that looked like they hadn’t eaten in so long. No threat to a young man as well trained as he was. Since then his horse, which he named Auburn for his rich auburn colored hair, became one of his most endearing companions, right along the likes of his Stark cousins, and his dearest friend Gendry.

Seeing that he was well fed and watered, Ryon then offered his horse a tasty treat in the form of a rich red apple he had swiped on his way out of the banquet hall. Auburn was quick to nibble away at the treat, leaving only his tongue juice on Ryon’s palm, which he quickly wiped upon his horse’s side. When Auburn looked annoyed, Ryon gave him a look that said he did not care.

“Water, food, and a treat, I think you’ll be able to handle some of your spit old man.” He smiled and patted his horse.

“He truly is a marvelous creature.” A voice rang out, and he quickly turned to find Wylla Manderly standing there at the entrance to the stable. His shock quickly faded, and he dropped to a bow before her.

“My lady, I did not see you there.”

She smiled then, and bid him to rise. “I noticed you leaving the party, and thought to follow after you.” She answered with ease.

“Follow me why my lady?”

She did not answer, merely smiled at him, a hint of wickedness could be detected behind her pearly white teeth as she slightly swayed her hips with every step she took till she was right before him. Then, looking him in the eyes, she gently slipped the wine skin out of his hand and brought it to her lips.

“Why to celebrate with you your victory, Ser Ryon.”

She took a quick sip, then offered it back to him, which he gratefully accepted, and even more quickly chugged down more of the bitter spirit then he might have intended. Being in the fair lady’s presence tended to do that to him. From there they took turns drinking from the wineskin, talking about the tourney, of their families, and other such topics. Between the two of them the skin had been emptied rather quickly, and the two of them were now beginning to feel its effects.

He had tried to do the noble thing and help escort her back to her rooms, but there was no chance of that happening, not once he had his arm around her petite waist. Before he could even take a step towards the New Castle, Wylla had turned in his arms and kissed him. Startled, he gave her all the time she needed before he could react, and by then she had already encircled his neck with her arms, and was holding him harder to herself. And despite his weak protests, he could not find it in him to make her stop. Maybe it was the wine, or perhaps he was more tired from the day than he realized? Or maybe it was just that he was tired of ignoring what he felt for the Lady Wylla, and clearly what she felt for him, and decided to give in.

Consumed with wild abandon, Ryon held her as close to him as possible, Kissing her lips, then her neck, and any other bit of skin he could find, all the while she held herself closer to him, even going so far as to wrap a leg around his waist, and allow for him to take hold of the other, and lift her up into his arms. Her legs wrapped tight around him, while his hands softly caressed her calves, her thighs, and her back, boldly going as far as to grasp her bottom even. So, while caught up in all the emotions and lust going between them, the two impassioned youths soon found themselves losing their balance and falling into a pile of hay. They took a moment to address the other, and then broke out into fits of laughter at their disheveled appearances. Taking a moment to rest, Wylla found herself snuggling comfortably against Ryon’s chest as the two of them lay amidst all the hay, the rest of the world all but forgotten aside from themselves. He could feel the wine’s effect beginning to lessen, but he found himself too weak to try and break from Wylla. He knew, he always knew how he felt about her, even knowing nothing could come of it. But for the first time tonight, he knew that she felt the same for him. Sure some might call the wine into question, but he knew with all his heart that she loved him as he loved her, a revelation that both filled him with joy and sadness in equal measures.

Knight though he might be now he was still a bastard, and even one as loved as he is by his royal kin, and respected by his fellow northmen, would make a poor match to so wonderful a Highborn as Lady Wylla was. So he had decided that they would have tonight, just tonight for the both of them and come dawn he would put aside all his feelings he felt for her. All for her sake. Resolute in his decision, he gathered her up in his arms and held her closer to him, praying to the old gods that whoever is chosen to be her husband that they treat her as she so rightly deserved, or he would visit his wrath upon the poor sod.

Sadly things did not go as he might have hoped the following morning.

In such a tender embrace poor Ryon had carelessly fallen asleep alongside Wylla, and both were awoken when Ryon had been nudged by the but of a spear. They both looked up to see Lord Wylis and King Eddard standing above them, lined with several Manderly men-at-arms.

The two young lovers were quick to defend the other, and swear this was not what it looked like. Uncle Ned looked ready for an explanation, while Lord Wylis looked about ready to slice off Ryon’s head then and there.

Deciding to take this in a more enclosed location, the two were briskly escorted to the Merman’s Court so as to explain themselves. Fortunately the occupants of the night before had all left, and only the cleaning staff remained behind to fix the place up for tonight’s celebrations. Lord Wylis quickly dismissed the help, leaving only the two of them, his uncle and her father, and a handful of loyal men present at the time.

Ryon spoke fast under the seething glare of Lord Wylis and explained how he and Lady Wylla had merely been talking with one another as they saw to his steed. He told them how she wanted to congratulate him, and that in turn lead to them spending much of the night talking with one another, till they were tired and ended up falling asleep in the hay. Their position they were found in being only a result of unconscious sleep movements.

The King and Lord both look to one another, and then back at their young kin. Perhaps Ryon’s excuse might have held weight, but sadly he was left mute when Lord Wylis raised the empty wineskin for all to see.

“Then how pray tell do you explain this _Ser_ Ryon?” He demanded.

He had none, none that would pass by Lord Wylis in his current rage. No matter what excuse he gave, he knew it would not be enough for Wylla’s father. So it came as a great surprise to him when Wylla spoke up about the Wineskin.

“It’s mine father, I brought it with me to share with Ser Ryon.”

Her father looked almost pale at her declaration, and Uncle Ned’s brows rose up at her sudden confession. Ryon meanwhile looked at her like she was barking mad. Still he listened on as she explained away the previous night’s events.

“All through the tourney he lay praise and honor upon me, showed such kindness to me, and even at the risk of embarrassing himself and possibly our Liege lords, he still competed and crowned me the Queen of Love and Beauty. The least I could do for such a display was to share a drink with him.” She explained as all listened in absolute silence. “Mayhaps we enjoyed the spirit a bit much, yes, but I swear to the old gods and the new father, Ser Ryon did nothing to me that would besmirch my name. He is too good of a man to do such. So I acted first and kissed him.” Her poor father looked like he was about to fall over, but she continued nonetheless. “I kissed him, and held him, and maybe the drink did help to embolden me, but it was what I wanted to do. And even after his share of the spirit, he remained as tame as a man tempted could possibly hope to be. Refused to move unless guided by my hand, never going anywhere without considering how I might react. If any blame is to be found it is I for allowing myself to be too emboldened. It is Ser Ryon who should be praised for his self-control. The gods know not many others would be so in control of themselves should a maiden be so forward with them.”

All present could not believe what had been said, Ryon least of all. If the worst came about, he was ready to take all the blame on himself, yet here Wylla was, painting herself as some wanton wench. It shamed him to have her say such about herself, so he sought fit to cut her off, and salvage what he could.

“You see my King, my Lord, do you see such great character the Lady Wylla shows? So great is her kindness that she would seek to protect a young man who was too deep in his drink in joyous celebration of his knighthood. For this I thank you Lady Wylla.”

She looked ready to retort, but the look in his eyes pleaded for her to please stop. So reluctantly she did, and allowed for him to spin his tale of what happened.

“The wine was mine, I was well in my cups after I left, the lady came to check on me and I imposed more drink upon her than she needed. I accept all this, but I swear nothing happened, no immoral acts were committed. We merely drank more than we should, and fell asleep upon the hay. This is the truth, so swears I.”

Lord Wylis still looked upon him with suspicion, but was set aside when Uncle Ned finally spoke.

“There Lord Wylis, you see there had been no wrong done this night. Just a simple matter of too much wine, which I know all have experienced once in a lifetime.”

None spoke up, so instead Uncle Ned turned to Wylla and smiled gratefully at her.

“A young woman such as yourself, it goes without saying that I can think of few others that if caught in such a scandalous situation would have had the strength to defend the accused. Yet here you are, defending young Ryon and willing for the worst to be thought about you. Well I assure you, none shall ever say a word ill of Lady Wylla Manderly whilst I am King, less they find me waiting to defend her.” Uncle Ned then surprised everyone by bowing to her and thanking her for defending Ryon’s name. “I will not forget this kindness you have shown here today my lady, nor I think shall dear Ryon either.”

At the sound of his name the young knight snapped out of his stupor, and nodded in agreement, bowing to Wylla as well, and vowing her his service for whatever need she might have. After that Lord Wylis escorted Wylla off to see the Septa, apparently still wanting to be sure that his youngest daughter had not been defiled by the drunken bastard nephew of the King in the North. Meanwhile Uncle Ned had his own words with Ryon about his actions, and how he must be more careful from now on. After all this had finally died down, Uncle Ned had decided it be best if Ryon left White Harbor for a while, sending him to Least Hearth to stay with the Umbers, and help them in their patrols of the New Gift for Wildlings for a good year.

It was a fine time, the Umbers being more than welcoming to him, and with all the work he had found himself with, it made it much easier for Ryon to not think too long on Lady Wylla. Also made easier by the natural born daughter of the Greatjon, the beautiful Mora Snow. Her companionship was certainly a welcomed distraction for the young knight, but even after being so long and so far apart, Wylla and her vibrant green hair would flash into his thoughts without warning, and then he’d miss her.

Which made his current situation all the more difficult. He swore that then would be the last time this sort of thing would happen, that he would put aside his feelings for her so that Wylla would find a better man to call her husband one day. Yet here he lay, a familiar sight of green hair under his chin, the steady rising of her chest upon him, and the familiar touch of her hand as it slipped into his own.

What was he to do?

“My lady, please I implore you this is madness. Once was bad enough, but should someone catch us now?”

Despite his protests, she would not hear of it.

“I know you feel for me the same way I do for you, tell me I am wrong Ryon?” He could not, so she continued. “I spoke more often than I can count to my father of my wish to pursue you, that you might be my husband one day.” His heart skipped a beat at her words.

_She did?_

“Father says I am too young to know what I want, that I was talking as a starry eyed maiden, and not thinking as a member of our house. I told him I was quite old enough to know what I wanted, and I wanted you.”

_You do?_

She raised herself up and straddled his waist so that she had him trapped under her, and he was forced to look up at her face.

“Let my father and mother and sister and grandfather all rage, let all the north whisper of us, of the foolhardy maiden swept off her feet by a bastard knight, I do not care.” Her face lowered and drew closer to him, and despite himself, he found he could not look away. “My father has Wynnie and her brood to marry off and strengthen our ties, he even has a Prince of Winterfell for a Good Son. So let that secure White Harbor for them, and let me choose who to marry for love, not advantage. And if that were to make me a fool then I’ll wear it with pride. Because of all the men I have met in my life, there is not a one that is as fine a human being as you Ryon. So I want you. I want to love you, to build a life with you, raise a family with you, and die a ripe old age, right alongside of you...don’t you want that too?”

There were no words to convey what he felt in this moment. Only action. His hands gently grasped her by her cheeks, and pulled her down to kiss her with all the bent up passion stored inside of him. All those emotions that he had been holding back, now unleashed, with no hope of bottling them up again. When they finally broke for air, they both looked at the other and could feel the love beating for the other. In that moment, Ryon knew that he could no longer be apart from her. No matter what lay before them, no matter the obstacle, they would be together from this point on. He would take her as his bride, marry her before the old gods, and let all the North know that this was his wife, the woman that he loved above all else.

Now all he had to do was explain all this to Uncle Ned.

 

**xXx**

 

**THE SILVER PRINCESS**

 

Daenerys gazed over herself once more in the looking glass, checking for what must have been the hundredth time to make sure everything was perfect. She sat there at the dresser provided for her rooms in her best sheer nightgown, whiter than her hair, and so thin you could see the paleness of her flesh, and the buds of her teats from underneath. Her hair had been let loose and combed down to one side, which she knew was something that enflamed Jon’s passions whenever she wanted him to be in the mood.

And by the gods, she wanted him to be in the mood.

Reaching to a vial on her desk, she lightly dabbed the perfume onto her hand before doing so to each wrist, on her neck, in the valley of her breasts, and just above the lips of her maidenhood. Nightbliss, it was called. A perfume she picked up during her and Jon’s stay in Lys. One smell of it on her skin had Jon’s blood aflamed, so filled with desire he was that she feared that he might take her then and there on the market floor. Thankfully they managed to retreat to their apartment before a scene was made.

Tonight was a special night for her, and Daenerys was determined to look every bit the goddess that Jon thought her to be.

Days had passed, and it almost amazed her to think that not so long ago she and Jon, along with their trusted council of allies were meeting with King Stark and his advisors and Queen in the grand hall of Winterfell. A large table had been set out for them, five on each side, and their chosen protectors left to wait in the backs, as a shared symbol of trust between two sides. Now that the festivities were pass, the time had come to act as the Lords and Kings that they were.

Originally Jon had wanted Daenerys to wait without with Lady Daemona and her other ladies, but she quickly shot down any such foolishness in its infancy.

“We are husband and wife now Jon, two halves made whole.” She told him. “If my husband goes before the King and Queen in the North, then I would have him going as their equal, with his wife at his side to share in all that may come of this meeting That’s what it means to be together beloved.”

After such an impassioned speech Jon knew he stood no chance. So he agreed to allow her to join him, but only asked to not allow her passions to inflame her words, and end up hurting these discussions rather than help them.

“My dear Jon,” she started with a wicked smile. “Would I ever do such a thing?”

He said nothing, merely shook his head, and offered his arm to her, which she quickly accepted and slid her far smaller arm around his much stronger one. And such is where she sat during these important discussions, at Jon’s right, while Daemon and his sister occupied the seats to his left, leaving Auranne to claim that last seat on the right next to her, completing their party from Dragonstone. Opposite of them sat King Eddard Stark and his wife Queen Catelyn, who were joined by their Maester Luwin and Prince Benjen and his wife.

The gathering of Dragons and Wolves had begun.

Jon spoke first, once more thanking their hosts for the kindness and treatment shown to him and his party, with hopes that these discussions would prove most beneficial to all concerned.

“I share your sentiments nephew,” King Eddard spoke. “May the old gods guide us in this, that we may reach a reasonable outcome that bring a swift end to the madness sweeping these lands, and ushers back in the peace we so desire.”

Nods and soft taps on the table could be heard in the hall at those words. Once silenced, Daemon rose and spoke to their northern counterparts.

“After much deliberation between myself, my Lord Jonarys, and correspondences between our other officials back on Dragonstone, we have decided to accept the contract offered by the King in the North.”

This seemed to please Jon’s uncle, as King Eddard seemed to let out a breath he wasn’t even aware that he was holding. She knew well enough from speaking to Jon that the King in the North was in dire need of their military power, but even more so was his desire to connect with his sister’s son, with the family he had long since been denied knowing. The one thing that he feared more than losing the military strength Jon and his soldiers would bring would be to damage any hope of a relationship between Uncle and Nephew.

Something they knew gave them an advantage in the negotiations.

“Yes, and that being said your grace...first there are some terms that we wish to discuss for our services.”

At Daemon’s pronouncement, all the cheer left the King’s eyes, and a stern expression soon replaced it.

“Terms, what terms do you speak of?” King Eddard demanded. Looking to his nephew he asked Jon what it was he meant exactly. So her husband was more than happy to explain things to his uncle.

“With respect uncle, we came here to be your guests, to find friends here in lands so foreign and strange to us that even the grass feels wrong under our feet. What we discovered was an ulterior motive awaiting us, a hand offered in friendship that concealed from us what was hidden in the other. I know you heard me speak to you before of my men, of what they mean to me. They are irreplaceable comrades and friends, who in selfish acts of loyalty uprooted themselves and many of their families and followed me here to Westeros. I cannot in good conscious ask them to follow me into someone else’s war, not without being assured of their futures first.”

Daenerys could see it on their faces, looks of surprise and annoyance, familiar expressions that she had seen time and time again while growing up amidst the court of the empire. It was the same expression that many had worn when they were dissatisfied with her brother’s rulings, now those same looks were directed to her Jon. Now surely his uncle Ned wouldn’t think of any of those things, but as for the rest, they probably thought this would be rather quick. Foreigners in foreign lands, no friends to look to, she was almost certain that was what the Queen in the North assumed they were going to be like. While she easily got on swimmingly with Queen Cat during their stay in Winterfell, there was always something about her that felt...off putting. If she was to hazard a guess, Daenerys would suspect that their host the Queen was not nearly as trusting of her guests as she might let on. While her husband the King welcomed Jon and the rest with open arms, she had watched the Queen in the North carefully, watched the way she moved, the way she talked, and how her eyes looked at them.

These were important skills she had learned growing up in the Imperial Court, skills that had served her well once she started being targeted as a potential piece in the imperial court’s game of thrones.

Breaking away from her musings, she watched as Maester Luwin was next to speak.

“You speak of terms my young lord, but have yet to divulge them to us.” The aged Maester said.

“Indeed. So without further ado, let us discuss the terms of service for my men and I.” Jon held his hand to Daemon, and the Blackfyre night handed him a scroll for him to read off from.

“Firstly, While here in the north my men will require room and boarding while on campaign. In place of payment, they will require food, grain, and wheat to be sent to their families while they are absent. Any man who dies will have an extra portion set aside and sent to their next of kin. Should here be no next of kin, the extra share will be instead turned over back to House stark, for financial equivalence.”

With every word Jon spoke, Daenerys carefully watched everyone gathered across from them. King Eddard listened intently, not missing a single word spoken, while his queen seem to become quite firm, a cross straight line forming across her lips. Wasn’t very hard to imagine what she was thinking right then and there. Plain for anyone to see that she was growing less and less pleased with her nephew-in-law, even if some might ignore such a fact.

The others were far less interesting to observe. Maester Luwin simply listened and wrote down everything that her husband was saying, Prince Benjen meanwhile looked upon Jon as though he was seeing him in an entirely different light from the young man he had come to know so well. Then there was Eddard Stark, the only one of the assembled party who bore no readable expression upon his face. Like chiseled stone Jon’s Uncle looked, betraying not a single thought nor emotion for any to read, in fact he did so so well that Daenerys herself was becoming frustrated at trying to get a read on the King in the North. Meanwhile, Jon continued to list off conditions to

The next little while went by without much of note, Jon continued to list their set of war conditions for his army, and the Starks listened intently till he was finished speaking. In addition to the grain and grain payments, the burden of medical aid would be divided between both forces and that his imperial forces be placed under imperial command alone.

“I fear despite how skilled your lords may be at command, they will fail to understand the rigid discipline that my men have had hammered into their heads since they were first able to hold swords. They understand only what they have trained for, and to confuse them in the heat of battle would cause great harm to all.”

His reasoning made sense to the Starks, and they nodded in agreement before continuing.

Finally, after all was said and heard, The King in the North finally spoke.

“Those are quite the requests Jon.” King Eddard told him. “And selfless as well. I note all you have said, and all that has been said has been for the benefit of your men, and not yourself.” He smiled then at her Jon, as though he were relieved by what he had just heard. “The North accepts these terms of battle, may the old gods watch over us and our men as we drive off the vultures seeking to bleed dry out homeland.”

Several cries of Hear hear could be heard from the men behind the King, and even his own brother and Maester tapped on the table in agreement. Dany herself was not so sure that this mood would continue, not after they heard what else Jon planned to ask from them. Joining his uncle and Maester Luwin in tapping lightly upon the table, Jon smiled almost sadly as he spoke his next words.

“Thank you uncle...now I must speak on what our price will be for taking part in this conflict.”

“Reward?” Questioned Queen Catelyn. “What speak you of reward, was the terms agreed to not reward enough for you and your armies?”

“Apologies for this confusion Queen Catelyn,” spoke Lord Daemon. “What was agreed upon were the conditions of battle that our army might fight alongside you and your northern men. What my Lord Jonarys asks now is what shall be the compensation to House Targaryen alone. After all good queen, my Lord led all of us here to Westeros for a new start, not to be embroiled in another war.”

“Agreed,” cried Lord Auranne Velaryon. “The Starks invited us to their den not solely to form bonds of friendship, as was implied, but to recruit us to fight in your battles. If that is what is asked of House Targaryen, then surely it is not without reason that they be properly rewarded for their sacrifices no?”

The Stark host’s patience seem to be wearing thinly at this point. In truth Daenerys fully expected for someone to call out Jon and the rest of them as trying to extort more out of their King, but instead she watched as King Eddard proved himself a better man than other, and asked Jon what it was they desired. Nodding to Daemon, the Lord of House Blackfyre handed over a large map of Westeros, and spread it all out for all to gaze upon. Jon then drew everyone’s attention to the Blackwater rush, and began to trace out a piece of land and then looked to his uncle.

“We ask for land, land enough that we may build a true home for us and for those who followed us from Essos.”

The land in question was a decent sized area that are bordered by the northwest and west of the riverlands, southwest bordering the Reach, and south into the stormlands. And as it so happened, conveniently close to the isle of Dragonstone itself. Now would come the difficult part of the negotiations. Daenerys was convinced that had it been just lands that belonged to the Starks, there would be no need to worry. The trouble came when it became clear there would arise complications possibly from the Gardners, and most definitely from the Durradons. What was being asked for also elapsed into their kingdoms. The Starks would have no say in those lands, nor sure why they would think to agree to what the Targaryens were asking of them. So they must have been wondering why he would ask this of them?

“Why would you ask this of us?” Benjen asked Jon.

“All can be answered uncle,” Jon promised. “I need but a moment to explain myself and my reasonings.”

So he had it, all were quiet and patiently waiting to hear from the young lord. He began by informing the Starks of the situation of his fellow refugees who are currently displaced along the eastern coast of Westeros. Of how Houses Celtigar, Bar Emmon, and Sunglass had offered shelter to as many as they possibly could once Dragonstone was fully occupied, but that they alone could never hope to bear such strenuous burdens. And news kept arriving that more and more people were following in their stead and traveling to Westeros and away from the empire. With so many imperial citizens without a home to call their own, it would only be a matter of time before something would come to a boiling, and people were going to be harmed. But Jon had sworn that he would watch over and protect any and all who chose to follow him into exile, and by Vhagar he was insistent on doing just that. Such was why he asked for these lands from the Starks, so that he might make a land that all these scared and new immigrants might call their new home.

“If I fail here, then I fail them all. Please understand, and say that you will agree to our request?”

Though she did not care for how close to begging her husband sounded then, she knew that he would fall to his knees if that's what it took. The responsibility of his followers weighed heavily upon Jon’s shoulders, and he was not the sort to shirk the responsibility handed to him. He would do whatever it took to see to all these people, even if he himself had never met them, or fought alongside him, they looked to him as their hope for a better tomorrow. He could not bare to let any of that faith in him be wasted.

Finally after several minutes of hushed whispering from the Starks, King Eddard addressed his nephew.

“What you ask from us is not impossible, and certainly within my power to grant you...for the most part.”

It was Queen Cat who spoke next.

“But there are still the Gardners and the Durradons to contend with. The Tully lands are easy enough, but the King Mace is not likely to be so eager to give land to foreign strangers. As for the Durradons, well, you’d likely find the armies of the stormlands laying siege to Dragonstone then you would convincing King Joffrey to secede any of his lands to you. Never mind that paranoid mother of his.”

She of course was referring to the Queen regent of the Stormlands and Joffrey’s mother, Queen Cersei Lannister. A woman whose beauty was only matched by her cruel nature. Then again, if what she had heard of Cersei’s father was even half true, Daenerys would have been surprised if that woman could have grown up to be a half decent human being. But sadly, the children of tywin Lannister were not said to have been raised in the most ‘loving’ of environments...not since the death of their mother Queen Joanna Lannister. Still, Daenerys and Jon had spoken at great lengths about this very matter, and she already had a solution for their troubles.

“You are absolutely correct my dear Queen Catelyn, King Joffrey nor his mother would never entertain such a proposal. So we shall not deal with them at all,” Jon announced to the surprise of his Stark kin. “Instead we will broker this agreement with King Tywin of the rock. Cersei and Joffrey might not listen to us, but I gather they will to Tywin.”

The outrage that followed set both sides to arguing with the other. The starks were convinced that Tywin would not even think to listen to their proposal, let alone agree to meet with them. The old lion might be well into his years, but he was no less sharp then when he infamously reigned down his fury down upon the Reynes of Castamere, and the Tarbecks of Tarbeck Hall. Even the King in the North spoke his concerns about this course of action.

“Jon, believe me when I say that Tywin Lannister will not hear of this from you. Not for all the precious gems and silver to be found in the empire. There is no reason for him to entertain your proposal, or even allow for an audience between the two of you.” King Eddard warned. But Jon merely smiled and assured him that all would be well, despite the Starks misgivings.

“Besides Uncle, it will not be I who treats with the King of the Westerlands.”

“Not you Jon? Then who?”

She would forever remember the look of shock upon all their faces when Jon turned to her, and took her hand in his.

“There is none I would trust with so important a task as this than my own wife.” He said with love and trust beaming in his eyes. “The Princess Daenerys will treat with King Tywin, and in the meanwhile Lady Daemona Blackfyre will treat with King Mace, and acquire his blessing for our plans.”

Maester Luwin looked almost pale at the thought, seeing no sane reason why Jon would risk her life by sending her straight into the Lion’s den. And he made his concerns quite vocal to them.

“Forgive me my lord, but what madness drives you to send your own wife into so dangerous a place as Casterly Rock?” The old Maester asked. “Never mind the journey, but her, alone with a small escort, entering into Lannister country, she will never leave their alive. And if she does, it will not be without great cost to her. I beseech you to reconsider, you do not know what type of place the Westernlands are.”

“Your concerns are appreciated, but unnecessary Maester Luwin.” Jon told him. “As it so happens, my wife will need no escort to the Rock my good man. She will be taking this journey alone.”

“And why do you sound so uncaring about such a prospect. Forget her traveling into Lannister lands, but to send her in alone? What would possess you to agree to something so foolish. Both of you!” Queen Cat exclaimed. At this, Daenerys finally spoke up.

“Who says I will be alone?”

They all looked at her like she was mad, Her husband and his best friends only shook their heads while Jon looked at her asking to stop leaving them all in suspense.

“I will travel to the home of Tywin lannister on the wings of my faithful companion Balerion, my dragon.” She explained to all present. At her words, all the room fell into utter disbelief and silence as she continued to speak.

“Astride my dragon I shall arrive before the gates of the Rock. I will call for their King, and I know he will answer. He will invite me in, and we shall have terms before I leave them, unspoiled I will add.” She said as she looked directly at the Queen and the Maester. “For should anything happen to me, I assure you that Balerion will know, and when he knows he will not rest until all of the Westerlands is engulfed in black flames. But more importantly, the old lion will see that House Targaryen is more than dragons and swords, but all of us who carry dragon blood in our veins are not to be underestimated. We will come to terms, he will force Cersei and Joffrey’s hands, and all will be as we have foreseen.”

When she had finished speaking, not a one of them said a thing. Not that she cared, she was only interested in the pride jon felt for her, how both tightly and yet gently he held her hand in his greater one. He had entrusted the most vital part of this scheme to her, and she was adamant that she make him proud. Finally the silence was broken by the words of Prince Benjen.

“These are many moving pieces nephew, many indeed.” The prince muttered to himself. “Everything would have to go exactly the way you envision them to go, there could be no room for variations or modification. Either this works, or we are staring down a full scale war with both the Westerlands AND the Stormlands. With what our strength is as the moment, and even supplemented by your forces...We cannot afford to fight any more wars after this insurrection is put down. You do understand that right Jon?”

Once more her Jon showed no falter of confidence to his Stark kin. He told Benjen that he understood, and that all would go as they have planned, he swore as much to them. All he needed now was for them to believe in him too. So once again the whispering and discussion began, and again they were left waiting for an answer. Finally, after several minutes of discussion between themselves, King Eddard stood and offered his hand to Jon in agreement.

“We have an accord Nephew.” The King in the North answered, and Jon reached out and shook his uncle’s hand, finalizing their alliance at long last. Now all that remained was for them to discuss matters of battle. King Eddard asked if Jon and his lords would remain behind to speak with him in private conference, while Queen Cat set out to entertain Daenerys and the rest of her ladies. For hours they were treated with all the hospitality of Winterfell and its Queen before finally Daenerys excused herself and sought out hers and Jons rooms. All their hard work was paying off, soon things would be set in motion that could not be stopped, and once that was she knew Jon and her would have so very little time to be together. So tonight she was going to prepare a special night for her prince, one that he was no likely to forget ever.

Looking herself over once more, She prayed to her god that she would appear as beautiful to Jon as she hoped she did. For there was no one else who lived on this world who made her feel as beautiful as other said she did like Jon. He was her heart, her everything, just as she was his. So tonight she would love him with all of her being, she would show how much love she felt for him till no strength remained in her body. And secretly, she hoped and pray that from this night that the gods would bless them, and allow his seed to take root in her womb so she might honor her husband with a child of their own.

A family, their family.

She was roused from her thoughts when the doors to the room opened, and she familiar sigh of her husband could be heard. Peeking from behind the changing curtain, she made sure it was him before administering some final additions to her appearance. While doing so, she called out to her love.

“At last you return.” She called sounding utterly exhausted in waiting for him. “For a moment there I feared I would have no one to warm my bed with me tonight. I might have frozen all by my lonesome.”

“Doubtful,” he breathed out as he sat upon their bed and relieved himself of his boots. “This castle is built over hot springs as you'll recall, they course through the walls like warm blood through a body. This castle will keep up nice and warm for the duration of our stay, so there’s no worry about freezing Dany.”

She smiled one more as she looked herself over again, and imagining to herself how Jon will look when he sets eyes upon her.

“Maester Luwin sent a raven to Dragonstone earlier this evening.” She informed him. Meaning that Balerion would soon arrive once let loose of his hold. Before they had left, in an attempt to protect the coast from becoming a banquet for their dragons, Jon had ordered them all chained in the caverns on the island, ensuring that they were properly fed while away. When her letter arrived, the keepers would let loose Balerion from his chains and he would fly all the way here to her. It was a bond that both dragon and rider shared, which many great scholars of the empire still debated about to this day. They knew what their dragons felt, and visa versa. And wherever they were, the knew where the other was as though by instinct.

"There is power in the blood, the blood of Kings."

Those words came from an old teacher from long ago when the two of them were not but babes themselves, and frankly not someone she wanted to be thinking about at the moment. Instead she drifted her thoughts over to how the northmen would react when Balerion finally arrived.

She was already imagining all the Northerners expressions upon seeing a dragon for the first time, contorting in all kinds of expressions at such a sight. It would certainly be something to remember. Much like this night.

Standing from where she was seated, she emerged from behind the change curtain, and revealed herself for Jon to see.

"Does my lord husband find himself pleased with what he sees?

It took all but a look, and she saw that she had awoken the dragon within him, just as she had wanted. Sauntering over to him with a wicked sway of her hips, she watched as he lay himself down upon their bed, and made just enough space for her to lay next to him on his side of the bed. Instead of lying down right away, she sat at the edge near him with her back turned and there for him to see. His hand reached out and gently traced the lining of her back with a touch that sent shivers down her back through the thin material of her robe.

_He always knows how to set my flesh on fire!_

Turning to him, she bent her head low and teasingly kissed his lips chastly and far too fast for him to enjoy. She would bend her head to the side and allow for him to trace kisses along her neck, the scent of her perfume having the desires effect upon him and seemingly driving him wild with desire. He pulled gently upon the gown so that it exposed more of her shoulder to him, and continued laying kiss after kiss upon her skin.

Finally he had enough of her playing, and grasped her by the waist and flipped them both onto the bed, pinning her underneath him and allowing for him to take in all of her for him to see alone. Lowering himself down to her level he began to attack her neck with fevered passion, slowly making his way up until he was kissing her with all the pent up desire within that was threatening to boil over inside of him. Her arms came to wrap around his neck, while a leg locked itself around his back, pulling him tighter to her, and pressing his warm erection against her already soaping entrance. She was more than ready for him right then and there, but found that it wasn't in her to deny him any of his fun. She had her time teasing him, now it was his turn.

Breaking away for air, They both smiled at the other, drunk on the love and lust they both were drowning in together. Gently removing her leg from him, he once more took in her form beneath him and decided he had had enough of her nightgown. So he slowly untied her band loose to open her gown, and slowly unwrapped her as though she were a gift for him. Once free of the thin piece of clothing he was finally able to take in all of her natural beauty, and made quick work to sate his hunger for her. He sucked at a teat while his hand kneaded the other, his knee he pressed against her warm and wet womanhood, pressing tightly against it, and driving her mad with want. Once he was finished with the first one, Jon quicked began nibbling and sucking upon the other teat, while he replaced his knee with his unoccupied hand, and began fingering the warmth deep inside of her. Oh how close was she now? Had she already come and failed to notice? She was unable to tell as her mind swam with almost endless bliss as her husband skillfully took charge of her, and worked his magic upon her body. From kissing her lips till they were puff and bruised to suckling at her teats till they were hard and erect, he continued from there and began leaving a trail of kisses on her from between the valley of her breasts, all the way down to her pulsing cunt.

_Is he...is he going to...by Balerion he is!_

All hope of uttering any protest were lost the moment his tongue darted past her folds, and began tasting of her. She bit down hard on her hand, for fear that in that moment she might have ended up crying out and drawing unwanted attention to them. Her hand was sore and bled when she finally removed it from her mouth. Instead when the next menstruation came she took to biting her lips, praying to Balerion she could contain herself long enough for Jon to finish. Her hand now entangled themselves among her beloved’s dark curls, pushing him harder against her lips, letting him know she wanted more of what he was giving her. Finally he broke away from her dripping cunt, and with expert skill and grace, flipped them both around so that he now lay below her and she on top of him; with her facing his dick, and he her cunt. She knew what he wanted, and after all he had done to her it was only fair that she repay him in kind. A small amount of precum was bubbling from the tip of his manhood, quickly done away with when she briskly kissed the tip of his cock and then began to take in more of it into her mouth. All the while he began again to lap and suck at her lower lips, attempting to drive her as far over the edge as she had him.

It had been a while since last she had done this for him. Rhaenys had use to jape with her and the other highborn girls of the imperial court of her exploits with her many lovers, and how she made them putty in her hand with but a few strokes from her hand, and a kiss from her lips. She and Jon never bothered to try such experiments till long after they had become intimate with one another. At first she wasn’t thrilled with having his cock in her mouth, but once she saw just the amount of pleasure she could get out of him from her, she made sure to learn how best to pleasure him with her mouth. Once, she and Rhaenys had been bold enough to sneak out of Summerhall and seek out the brothels of the Imperial capital. To better learn how to please her man she needed to see the act of pleasure in action. So disguised as two serving boys the princesses snuck into the biggest brothel in the capital, and observed men and women in the midst of pleasure. It truly fascinated her when she was young at the various ways and means that people could derive pleasure from one another, even if some of them were too daring, or too unimaginable to consider. For her part, she focused on how the whores brought men pleasure with their mouths. For several nights she and Rhaenys would sneak out in the dead of night, and observe the brothel workers in the midst of their work, and they kept returning until Daenerys finally felt she knew enough for her to please Jon with. After demonstrating to him all that she had learned, he questioned her about where she learned such technique. When she told him of her and his sisters exploits Jon made her swear to never return to such a place again. He feared for them if something should happen, or they be discovered in such a low part of the capital. There were far worse things that could happen to them than simply being forced upon by other men. So she agreed, but still retained all she learned, and made sure to put all her studying to good use.

So here again she set Jon’s passions aflame, her head bobbing up and down upon his length, taking in as much of him as she could with every suck. Jon found himself completely distracted from seeing to Daenerys by the sight of her erotically sucking off his manhood. Before he knew what was happening, he could feel his climax coming. He tried to warn Daenerys of what was coming, the increased speed of his tongue and fingers in her cunt being all the warning she would get, yet still she continued to suck and lick him until he finally came and emptied his seen into her mouth. Once it finished milking out every last drop, she raised herself up and removed his cock from her mouth. Then she turned to him then and made him watch as she swallowed all of it, and then smiled as a little spilled out from the side of her mouth. The sight brought renewed vigor into his body, and his manhood became rigid and hard once more.

No more foreplay, no more teasing and playing with the other. He need to be inside of her now, just as she needed to feel him inside of her. Lifting herself up slightly, she reached out to grasp his manhood from between her legs. Once in hand she guided it to the folds of her wet entrance, and inch by agonizing inch she slid all of him into her.

This, this is what she lived for. For the chance for she and he who she loves most of all to be one, to complete one another. Just like the stories that lyanna had told her as a child, of how man and woman were made for one another, that together they completed the other in a way that no one else could understand. It wouldn’t be till she was a woman before she completely understood what her good sister meant by those words.

Grasping her hips with his hands, Jon gently raised Daenerys up, pulling his cock out of her ever so slowly, and then all at once brought her down on him in one swift thrust. The suddenness caused Daenerys to let out a rather loud gasp, and her face burned with embarrassment and looked over to the entrance of their room, praying that she was not heard, and that no one would come to check on them and find them in such a position. After a few moments passed, and no noise could be heard from outside, she allowed for herself to relax once more. Which Jon took full advantage of and began to thrust into her with wild abandon.

Daenerys now had better control of her voice, and worked hard so that her gasps and moans came out just loud enough for Jon, and not so loud that everyone else could hear them in the throws of passion. Faster and faster he came into her, his hands latching themselves onto her breasts as her head tilted back and she gazed up at the ceiling, her hands together behind the back of her head as she continued to feel him deep within her. By the gods this was perfect, him, her, this moment, everything about now was absolutely perfect to her. Though, she thought to her self, only one thing could make this even more perfect. If only they were outside right now, she thought to herself, if only we were making love together under the blanket of the night, with none but the stars as witness to their love. That alone could possibly make the moment she was in feel even greater than she could possibly imagine. Perhaps another time, for now they were still in the midst of mind blowing sex in their rooms at Winterfell. As they continued making love to one another, Jon once more shifted the two so that once more she lay below him, and he was on top. Her arms and legs wrapped tightly around him, she bit down hard on her lips when he continued thrusting into her. She knew if she didn’t bit down, that she would lose herself in all the pleasure, and would end up screaming with wild abandon. And that was the last thing she needed anyone to come and and see.

Holding him closer to her, his face began to press against the side of her neck as his pace began to quicken. Faster and faster he went, she knew that he was almost at his breaking point. Soon he would be spent, and all of his warm seed would spill inside of her. The very thought only helped her hips to match his speed beat for beat. After all that they had done tonight though, she was amazed that he had lasted as long as he had. Grunting her name into her ear, and she his, their climax finally reached and he spilled his seed all inside of her to the very last drop. They stayed still for a few moments more, allowing for her womanhood to finish milking him of the last of him inside of her, then the two of them lost all remainder of strength they had, and fell down upon the bed. Daenerys and Jon both sucked in as much air as they could, breathing heavily as he lay pressed against her breasts, and her arm wrapped around his head holding him close to her. It had been so long since last they had taken each other with such passion, such fire and vigor. It brought a smile to her face to think of all that they had done that evening, and for what else she hoped might come from this coupling this night.

“That...was...amazing.” Jon managed to breath out to her. She smiled and gave a weak laugh as her fingers played with the curls of his hair.

“You weren’t to bad...yourself.” she said, smiling wickedly down at him, knowing he had not the strength to retort. But she imagined that once he was properly rested, that she would find herself on the receiving end of his vengeance. The thought of it, of all of this, of her and Jon and the life they had now, it all brought an unquestionable smile upon her face.

This was their life now. Westeros was where they lived, but even then she knew that anyplace with Jon would really be called home. He was her home, her family, and quite frankly the only thing in the world that she gave a real damn about anymore.

As Jon snuggled closer to her, moving himself slightly off her form, and pulling himself out of her entrance, some of his seed slipped out and stained the sheets beneath them. Then, while one hand held Jon’s head to her chest with the utmost affection, her other hand came down to caress her womb. She closed her eyes and began to slowly fall into sleep's inviting embrace, but not before once more offering a prayer to her and Jon's gods.

_Bless us in this my prayer gods of my fathers and their fathers before them. Let my beloved prince’s seed take root in me, let it grow within me till I am fat with child. Let me gift to him a son with his eyes, or a daughter with his hair. Jon has given up so much for my happiness, and for the happiness of so many others, even people he does not know. Let me reward him for all he has done with a child to call his own, an heir to follow in his footsteps._

_A Prince of Ice and Fire._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A part of me wasn't sure this chapter needed the smut, but another, louder part of me, wanted to see if I could pull it off. And it serves a purpose, both as a bit of a farewell celebration between the two of them before battle, and other plot pieces that you guys are probably too smart to not realize by this point in reading medieval game of thrones fan fiction. Anyways, hope you all enjoyed.

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it, loved it, hate it, have thoughts on it, let me know in the comments below.


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